


The Future's in Our Hands

by YoureMyTicket



Series: Fortunate To Be Loved By You [6]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: (but not without The Drama), F/M, Hurt!Aramis, Post-Season/Series 03, they get to be a family!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28643982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoureMyTicket/pseuds/YoureMyTicket
Summary: Aramis felt a pang in his heart, remembering what the King had told him outside the mausoleum, to not have been the one who taught his son how to ride, but he focused his mind on the fact that he was here now, and there was still so much for Louis to learn.
Relationships: Ana de Austria | Anne d'Autriche/Aramis | René d'Herblay, Athos | Comte de la Fère/Sylvie (The Musketeers 2014), Minor or Background Relationship(s), d'Artagnan/Constance Bonacieux
Series: Fortunate To Be Loved By You [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/936462
Comments: 28
Kudos: 31





	1. Laying to Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We start right where we left off with the previous fic (and basically the end of the show for those who may not have read the series). And there's a sex scene towards the middle of the last section that briefly goes into mature territory

_A new beginning_

"Mama!" Louis shouted, giggling as he ran over to his mother and hid from his governess behind Anne's skirts.

"Darling, did you say hello to Aramis?" Anne asked, bringing Louis in front of her. It was then that Aramis realized that the ribbons on Anne's sleeves were the same shade of blue as Louis' doublet and trousers. A matching pair they were, in their light blues and creams, and with their golden hair. Louis didn't have Anne's blue eyes though, his eyes were brown, eyes Aramis himself had inherited from his own mother.

"He said he's going to live here with us!"

"Indeed he is. He's going to help us end the war and take care of our people."

"And I've agreed to accompany His Majesty on the occasional musketeer adventure," Aramis reminded Anne, winking at his son.

Anne smiled at him, but then she looked past his shoulder and something she saw caused her face to fall. He opened his mouth to ask what was the matter, but Anne's eyes quickly darted away.

"Louis, look! Your pony is ready."

Aramis looked towards the palace to see a groomsman standing with a miniature pony at the end of the lawn. He glanced back at Anne, confused, and she mouthed "Milady" over Louis' head. Resisting the urge to turn around and look, he nodded and Anne returned her attention to their son. "Why don't you show Aramis what a good rider you are."

"You know how to ride already, Sire? " Aramis asked, only partially feigning the awe in his voice.

Louis nodded and proudly lifted his chin again. "My Papa said I'm a natural."

Aramis felt a pang in his heart, remembering what the King had told him outside the mausoleum, to not have been the one who taught his son how to ride, but he focused his mind on the fact that he was here now, and there was still so much for Louis to learn.

MMMMMMMMMM

Leaving Louis with his governess and Aramis, Anne made her way inside, wondering how Milady was able to move so freely about, and more importantly how well her assignment went.

She was already in her bedroom when Anne got there.

"It's done?"

Milady bowed her head.

"And no one saw you?"

Milady's lips quirked up as if to laugh. "Only the dead man, Majesty."

Anne swallowed down the other questions that were rising up her throat. The ones that wondered what Gaston's last moments were like. Was it quick or did he know what was about to happen? Did he try to weasel out of the consequences of his actions as always and make offers of wealth and power? Did he fight for his life? Did he suspect who was behind it?

 _Conscience is a cruel companion_ Milady had told her, but her conscience was resolute in the fact that her son was now safe from him. That's all that mattered. Her son was safe and so was France.

"Good," she said, and sat down at her desk. "I will send for you when I need you again, but before you go, tell me, how exactly do you move about the palace undetected? Surely you're not just using the tunnels and the servant's passageways."

Milady smirked. "No," she admitted. "I am not. There are secret passageways within the palace originally meant to be used by the royal family in times of crisis. It's like a maze though, with so little to indicate where you are." She sighed. "They're often more trouble than they're worth," she flashed her eyes up at her, "but I suspect you'd only be interested in a single route, one that leads to the First Minister's quarters."

Anne could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. "Why wou-"

"There's no need for that," Milady quickly interjected, looking increasingly smug. "I know that Aramis is the King's true father," she stated. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting such a bold move as to make him First Minister, but Your Majesty is apparently full of surprises."

Closing her mouth, Anne collected herself. "The Cardinal, did he know?"

Milady tilted her head to the side. "Can't say, I left his service before the happy announcement. But knowing His Eminence, he probably at least suspected."

"And how is it that you found out?"

"Rochefort," Milady answered, and Anne suddenly felt cold, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. "He asked me to find out any information regarding Your Majesty and Aramis. I didn't, you should be glad to hear, but then your dear musketeers confirmed it when they enlisted my help. Quite an accomplishment though, to pull off such a deception and get away with it."

Anne bristled at Milady's tone, as if it was all some big con Anne had come up with to exercise power over Louis and not because of necessity, to keep Aramis and their son from harm. So many sleepless nights spent worrying about someone questioning the timing of her pregnancy, about Louis not believing her.

"Have you not found the key to that?" Milady suddenly asked, looking pointedly at the small dark chest sitting on Anne's desk.

Blinking, Anne looked down at it. She had been going through Louis' things when she came across the chest, but she had yet to find a key. She shook her head.

Reaching a hand behind her head, Milady then presented her with a short hairpin, and Anne stared at it for a second before taking it. Whatever was in the chest probably only had sentimental value, and she wanted to get it out of the way.

While Anne stuck the hairpin into the keyhole and began pressing it around, Milady went over to one of the flower arrangements and began gathering some of the stems.

"What are you doing?"

"A way to mark the route, for now at least."

MMMMMMMMMM

He was still with his son when Milady caught his eye, beckoning him over. After making his excuses to Louis about getting back to work, he followed her into the entrance of the tunnel she had led them into years ago when they had to spirit Anne away to the convent.

"Minister," Milady greeted with an exaggerated bow. "Last I heard, you were going to renounce all your possessions and become a monk."

"Almost, never took the orders though."

"Couldn't bear the thought of the haircut?" she japed. "Pity, if you became a priest you could have had the little King calling you 'Father.'"

Aramis clenched his jaw at the barb. "You're not supposed to be talking to me."

Milady lifted her chin sanctimoniously. "I had a direct order from Her Majesty to find you and bid you return to your office. She has a surprise for you, consider it a gift from me for the both of you."

"It's not a head on a platter I hope."

Milady scoffed lightly. "No, though I probably could have turned his head into a weapon like Perseus, the man was so gorgon-esque."

"How did you do it?" Aramis asked seriously.

"A blade in the back and a bullet to the head."

"And you were gone before anyone came to investigate the shot?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, no one saw me. You know, I really don't see the point of not reporting to the both of you together if you're just going to be asking the same questions."

"It would arouse suspicion if I'm seen-"

"Yes, I've taken care of that too," she said, smiling smugly. "Her Majesty is waiting for you, I suggest you go and find her already."

Aramis watched her go and then murmured to himself, "Find her?" Didn't she say Anne was in his office?

He went straight to his office then, only to find it empty. He went into his adjoining bedchamber to see if she was in there, but it was empty as well.

"Aramis, in here," he suddenly heard Anne say from the office.

Thoroughly confused as to how she must have been right behind him in the corridor without him noticing, he walked back into the room...yet there was no sight of her.

He heard soft laughter coming from the furthest wall and then he watched in surprise as a bookshelf swung open to reveal a smiling Anne.

"What?" he said, walking over to examine the hidden door. "I never knew about this."

"Me neither," Anne replied, showing him where the latch was to open and close it. "And there's more." Stepping back into the little alcove, Anne pressed something else and another faux wall opened on the left into a dimly lit corridor.

"Secret passageways?" He knew it was possible, and had always suspected there were some within the palace, but he supposed being a musketeer only concerned with guarding the royal family outside the palace, he was not privy to such information.

Anne looked back at him, eyes bright. "Yes, and Milady marked the path to my room."

Taking his hand, Anne led him through, and they followed a trail of flowers that had been laid on the stone floor. The somewhat narrow passage was cold and dimly lit by slits of light coming through small windows near the ceiling. It all reminded him of being in a cell.

Along the way, Anne explained how her old bedroom, being in a newer part of the palace, didn't have a direct entrance to this old network of passageways, answering the question forming in his mind regarding the time of Rochefort's attempted coup.

After ascending a spiral staircase and turning a couple more corners, the flowers stopped in front of a door and Anne opened it, stepping into what was previously her husband's room. Aramis followed her out. They were right by the window, and had to step around her prie dieu. He inspected the door as he closed it, seeing how neatly the seams hid behind the paneling, mirroring the opposite panels perfectly. Even a painting hung on the door.

"Well, that certainly makes things easier. We'll have to do some exploring sometime," he commented, interested in learning where the other paths led. He'd also have to oil the hinges, for the doors had creaked and groaned a little when opened. He turned to Anne. "So Milady completed her assignment," he said, walking over to where she stood by the fireplace.

Anne took a deep breath and nodded. "And now we must prepare for news to reach Paris."

They discussed how they should react, reiterating how Grimaud or Lorraine's men could be connected. Anne took out a pile of letters from a small chest on her desk. They were the ones Gaston had lost at Christophe's inn, the ones in which he talked of gathering an army to usurp his brother. They could be used as evidence if needed.

Once they finished discussing their plan of action, Aramis recounted his visit to the garrison and how the clean-up was progressing.

"We'll have to invite Elodie and Marie-Cessette to the palace so you can properly meet them," he said.

"The woman at the blessing with the baby? A friend of Constance's?"

"Yes, and Porthos' wife and daughter."

Anne stood there for a couple of seconds before turning to Aramis, her brow furrowed. "His…oh God-" Her eyes widened and then her hands went up and covered her face. "Why didn't anyone tell me! I just sent him to the front!" she said, though the exclamation was muffled behind her hands.

Going over to her, Aramis gently pulled her hands down, smiling fondly at her. "It's all right, it's all right, they married _after_ you made him general. Elodie's a war widow we met while on the hunt for Grimaud, Porthos helped deliver her baby. God forbid something should happen to him out on the front, his pension will see them taken care of. They knew what they were doing."

"So he's adopted them as his own," said Anne, understanding now. "Does he love her?"

"It's all still very new, but I think so." He brushed his thumbs over Anne's knuckles, thinking of his own early encounters with her. "Sometimes you know right away that something's there. A spark that just needs to be fed."

MMMMMMMMMM

It wasn't until after she tucked Louis into bed and dismissed her maids for the night that Anne had the chance to further inspect the chest of letters. Putting the tied stack of Gaston's treasonous letters aside, she leafed through the rest of the contents. It was mainly correspondence between Louis and his brothers: Louis forgiving Gaston and asking him to return, and before that asking Philippe to be Governor of Paris. There were even a few letters from his mother.

Taking out the last of the letters, she still heard the scraping of parchment, and assumed a letter had simply fallen flat. She brought the chest closer and stuck her hand in, gathering up not just another letter, but also a larger piece of paper that had been folded several times in order to fit into the bottom of the chest.

She looked more closely at the wrinkled and worn letter, only to see her own broken seal stamped upon it. Opening it, she then saw her handwriting and the words, "My Darling Brother" at the top. Her stomach sank. It was the letter she had written to Philip after Louis had been captured by slavers, the one Rochefort has used to initially accuse her of treason. Louis had kept it.

Her gaze slid over to the folded piece of paper with an increasing sense of dread. This was not a box that held loving sentiments; at some point or another, she and the others had betrayed Louis.

But this wasn't a letter though, and it was buried at the bottom, underneath the only letter from her.

As she started to unfold it, she didn't recognize the tiny handwriting to be Louis' or any of the previous correspondents, and the formatting was that of a transcript. Scanning over the words near the bottom of the sheet, she spotted the names "Lady Marguerite," "Dauphin," and finally "Aramis."

Unfolding the top, she gasped as she read the official heading. It was the transcript from Aramis' trial.

She had thought-foolishly, she now realized-that something like this would have been rid of once Rochefort had been proved a spy and that his accusations were lies. But Louis had kept this too.

She read it then, and her heart ached for Aramis, for what he did for her, and how he defended her, despite the consequences. She felt a pang of pity upon reading Marguerite's anguished cries for Aramis and knowing what she did after the trial, but it was her who confirmed Rochefort's accusations and named Aramis as the Dauphin's father, her words that condemned them all.

And Louis had kept it.

He never fully believed her innocence. Why keep it otherwise? Why not destroy such dangerous accusations unless he thought there might be a need to present them later on, either as blackmail or evidence for a divorce from her, and an order of arrest and execution for Aramis. If not for his illness, he very well might have gone through with something after Aramis confirmed to have slept with her, if he hadn't run out of time.

Taking the candelabra off her desk, she made her way over to the hidden door. She wanted to see Aramis. They had come so close, so close to losing everything.

He was at his desk when she entered the office. "You're early," he said with a smile, but she didn't return it, and his face fell as he glanced at the papers clutched in her hand. "What's wrong?"

She merely held out the papers and waited for him to come over and take them from her. "He kept them."

It didn't take long for Aramis to realize what the letter was and his jaw to tense. Folding it back up, he then opened up the transcript, but he was quick to realize what that was too, and he let his hands drop as he stared ahead and breathed out through his mouth.

Looking back at her, he took the candelabra from her hand. "Follow me," he said in a low voice, and led her into his bedroom.

Setting the candelabra on a side table, he tossed the papers onto the bed, and then proceeded to start a fire in the small stove in the corner of the room. Once the fire was lit, he handed back her letter while he took the transcript.

With a nod from him, she stepped forward, and looked over the letter one last time before feeding it to the flames. Aramis added the transcript next and took her hand as they watched the papers blacken and curl as the fire ate away at them.

"Aramis?" Anne began once the papers had been reduced to ash. He turned his head to her and she met his eyes. "Make love to me?"

Without a word he brought his other hand up to cup her cheek before leaning in to softly kiss her. And then it was like the night at the convent; the need for comfort, to feel loved, alive. There was no hesitation this time though, no need for him to ask for further permission to undress her, to touch her. Laying on the bed while he laid wet kisses along her neck and then gently sucked at her collarbone, she simply closed her eyes and let herself be swept away.

She never wanted to let him go, never wanted him to leave her embrace, but the urgency in the way he said her name told her he was about to reach his own peak, and so she relaxed her hold and he pulled away, spilling his seed on her stomach.

Breathing heavily, Aramis sat back on his haunches and gently squeezed her calf before getting up and going over to the washstand to bring her a cloth to wipe herself down with.

Taking the cloth back once she was finished, Aramis put it aside and laid down next to her on the bed, pulling the sheet up to their chests as he did and then holding his arm up so that she could curl into his side. Once they were settled, she ran her hand across his chest, her fingers brushing against his necklace. Picking up the roughly cut blue stone, she turned it over in her fingers.

"I don't have it anymore," he said. "Your crucifix. Grimaud took it when he held me hostage. Cast it into the fire. Though during my escape attempt I did manage to unlock my shackles with it before it completely melted."

Anne leaned up on her elbow. "You mean you still had it at the monastery? And when you came back? This whole time?"

He smiled sadly. "I'm sorry I lost it."

She shook her head. "Don't be. It...don't be."

"What is it?" he asked, brushing the back of his knuckles against her arm.

Her gaze fell. "I'm glad it served you till the end, but the crucifix, it was how Rochefort realized there was something between us."

His eyes darkened and he sat up against the headboard. She could feel his gaze boring into her.

"He had given it to me before I left for France. I had forgotten and...he recognized it on you."

Something between a sigh and a groan came from Aramis. "Marguerite. It went missing one day and she found it. After...I suspected she had taken it, and found out it had been yours." He shook his head. "It was him she took it to." His gaze dropped and he grew quiet. His eyes were soft when they met hers and it made her want to just crawl into his arms and cry. "And then he confronted you about it?"

Anne closed her eyes and nodded as the memory came flooding back. "He came to my room, told me that he saw you wearing it but that he would forgive me if I told him I loved him and that we could be together. When I tried to turn him away, to stop him, he…"

"Ana," she heard Aramis faintly say, telling her she didn't have to go on, but she wasn't going to let the memory of that man silence her.

She took a deep, steadying breath. "He had me pinned down on the floor when Constance came and gave me the chance to reach for my hairpin and strike him. It got him off me, but he was crying treason as he left."

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Ana. I'm so so sorry. I wish I could have protected you from him."

She shook her head. "I shouldn't have so blindly trusted him. If only I had remembered, if I had listened to Constance and realized...he had been manipulating me the whole time and I was too foolish to see it."

"It is _not_ your fault. Please, don't do this to yourself. I spent so much time at the monastery letting my guilt eat away at me, wanting to punish myself for the mistakes I made and the things I should have done differently. But you can't always know how your choices will turn out, and some things are just out of our control. Rochefort, he was Hell-bent on having you."

"And Marguerite?"

"Marguerite had wanted me, and I _wanted_ to want her, but deep down I only wanted to protect my son. I used her love for me and only told her that I did not wholly return her feelings once it was too late. I let the Cardinal scare me and put you all in danger."

"The Cardinal?"

"He had Father Allard deliver a threat to me after his funeral. Told me the Cardinal knew my secrets and would see me and my loved ones destroyed."

She pushed herself further up onto the pillows. "Aramis..."

"I should have gone to you about it, I even went to your apartments, but with Marguerite I thought I could watch over my son while keeping my distance from you."

"As I had told you to do," Anne said remorsefully, thinking back to the promise they had made in the gardens.

"You were only trying to protect us."

"As were you, and I forgave you long ago for it."

Aramis bowed his head and brought her hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly, after which Anne shifted closer to him, and leaned against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders once more.

"This is why I hired Milady," Anne softly declared. "I will not stand by and let another monster hurt my family. Or my people."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey everyone! I know I said I don't like to start posting until 95% of the fic is done but...this is taking a while. I'm more than halfway through (having written over 40,000 words!), and like I said, I have an ending, I just have to fill in and connect everything in between. And so, for those of you who might still be following the series, I thought I'd start giving you Something, and feedback can be a great motivator ;)
> 
> Also, this chapter is dedicated to erinsgirl, who has been waiting for Anne and Aramis' conversation about Rochefort and Marguerite since I posted my 2x09 chapter. Hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> Historical background/inspiration:
> 
> -In 1637, Anne had to sign a confession and basically a behavioral agreement after she was found to have been writing to her brother Ferdinand, and others. After she became regent, Anne "took the trouble at about this time to go through Louis XIII's papers and destroyed the originals of the humiliating confessions and agreements she had been forced to sign in 1637" -Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria


	2. The Weight of Him

_Back to the carriage. Now_

"This is Marie-Cessette," said Elodie, holding up her daughter.

"Named after Porthos' mother," added Aramis.

"A lovely name for a beautiful baby," said Anne, looking into the bundle. "May I hold her?"

Elodie's lips parted in surprise but she quickly shook herself out of her momentary stupor. "Oh, um, of course, Your Majesty."

Once the baby was in her arms, Anne stepped back and rocked her a few times to settle her. "I miss when the King was this small," she stated, and smiling, gave the tiny hand that had reached out a finger to grasp.

She took a few more steps away from the group while she continued to gaze down at little Marie-Cessette, who yawned and wriggled around in her swaddling until she was comfortable again. Anne sighed softly; she had always thought that a daughter of hers would bear the name Marie.

"I have some things set aside for her," Anne informed Elodie, turning back to the group. "Toys and clothes and such." Relinquishing Marie-Cessette into Aramis' open arms, she then led them further into the nursery where she had the items laid out.

"Your Majesty, these are so fine," Elodie began, tentatively laying her fingers on one of the folded gowns. "I couldn-"

"Please take them," Anne insisted. "They will sit collecting dust otherwise." There were some items she had to keep to pass down to Louis' children, and a few had sentimental reasons, but besides that she saw no point in keeping the rest, and rather they were used and enjoyed by her extended family, with items set aside for Athos and Sylvie's child as well. There were even a few items she had marked for Constance and d'Artagnan in case things changed for them.

With some encouragement from Aramis and Constance, Elodie accepted, and while Aramis laid Marie-Cessette down on a blanket to show her and her mother some of the toys, Anne lightly touched Constance's hand so that she could talk to her in a far corner of the room.

"Is everything all right, Majesty?"

"I was only wondering…" Anne began in a low voice. She glanced over to Aramis and Elodie happily playing with Marie-Cessette. How many times had she dreamed of Aramis playing with their own child like that? As much as she ached for it though, it couldn't be, and so she turned back to Constance. "It is a delicate matter and I hope you forgive my impropriety, but you and d'Artagnan are sleeping together, yes?"

Constance, understandably, looked taken aback by the question. "Yes…"

"Then what are you doing to prevent conception?"

Constance blinked, her expression relaxing. "Oh." She too then glanced over to Aramis, her eyes sympathetic when they looked back at Anne. "I add something, a herb, to my drink. One of the refugees was a midwife, and she told me of it and how much to take. It, erm, keeps your courses regular."

"I see. And, well, I hate to ask this of you, but could you get me this herb? Something like this can't become known to the Church and I can't trust the people in my household with it."

"Of course. I'll bring you some of mine by tonight though to get you started."

"Oh, you don't have to do that. I know you're a busy woman."

Constance gently grasped Anne's forearms. "Majesty, after Bonacieux died, you told me not to let anything stop me from finding happiness, to be with the man I loved. You and Aramis have done enough waiting, and I will not be the one to make you wait any longer."

MMMMMMMMMM

He was looking through some of the many scrolls on the shelves when he heard the hidden door open and then saw Anne appear, smiling softly.

"Have you ever tasted chocolate?" she asked, holding her hand out.

Following her through the passageway, she led him back to her room, where a small table and chairs were set up.

"Constance couldn't stay long," she explained, and sitting down, added, "And I don't think it was to her liking either."

"Too bitter for our sweet Constance?" he quipped, taking Constance's empty seat next to her. He had tasted chocolate before at the monastery, towards the beginning of the war when a group of Spanish monks stopped at Douai and offered some to Aramis and his brothers in thanks for their hospitality. It was a bitter and grainy drink, but adding spices to it as the Spaniards suggested greatly improved the taste.

Looking across the table, he spotted a small drawstring purse. "Her delivery?" he asked, to which Anne nodded. He picked up the purse and opened it to take a look at the bottle of dried leaves. He had been hesitant when Anne first suggested the idea, but she assured him she was willing to do it. He knew from the brothel how the women would use rags or sponges soaked in vinegar or sometimes wine to cleanse themselves of men's seed, even Adele had used the method, but this was the best option if they wanted to continue to be intimate and leave as little evidence behind.

"I only have to take a little," Anne told him, "and the chocolate is so thick I hardly know I'm having it."

Closing the bag, he put it in his pocket. "I'll keep it in my desk, and I can bring it over when we have our small council meetings." Considering his knowledge of medicine and the work he did in the gardens of Douai, along with his reputation with women, it wouldn't be questioned as much if it were found in Aramis' rooms.

"Yes, that would work nicely; evening drinks while we have our small council," she said with a small smirk.

He gave her a half-smile in return. They were calling it their small council, but it was really only going to be just the two of them, like now, only they'd leave the doors open for propriety's sake. After all, Aramis was new to his position and there was a lot of work to do, or at least that was what they told themselves.

"So how did your first encounter with chocolate happen?" Anne asked.

He told her of the Spanish monks then, and she in turn told him about having chocolate growing up in Spain. She loved the drink; so much that she had her own special silver pots and tools brought to France when she married so it could be prepared correctly. He supposed part of her fondness for it derived from a reminder of home, of her family.

"Louis, does he like it?"

"Only to dip biscuits in," she replied. "Though we haven't really had the chance to try different flavors."

"The children at the monastery liked it with some sugar."

"Would you tell me more about them, about your time at the monastery?" Anne prompted, though she sounded hesitant at the end.

She knew why he had gone there, and he had already alluded to how hard it had been for him at times, but there were plenty of good times too, especially with the children, and his experiences there were a part of him now, a part that he wanted to share with her.

He talked a bit about the work he did with Brother Valerius his first year there before getting to the orphans, describing what each one looked like, their story, their personality. It was nice to talk about them, to laugh about some of the pranks they pulled on him and the games they'd play. It made him miss them though, and wonder how they were doing.

"Little Marie, she thought Porthos might have been a giant," he said as he recounted his brothers' most recent visit to the monastery. "But that girl has the courage of David. She went right up to our Goliath Porthos and kicked him in the shin." He smiled into his cup as he listened to Anne's soft laughter. "So naturally they became the best of friends," he added, and went to take a sip of his drink, but he was taken by surprise by the unladylike snort that escaped Anne and he instead sputtered into the cup.

Lurching forward, he set down his drink and looked over at Anne, who had clapped a hand over her mouth, before they both started to laugh anew.

Once they started to calm down, Anne gestured at his mouth, smiling. "You have chocolate…" He ran a hand over his mouth to get any droplets out of his beard, but she leaned over anyway and reached out to wipe her thumb along his mustache.

He then watched as she brought her thumb to her lips and licked it clean while she looked at him from under her eyelashes. He licked his own lips, which had suddenly gone dry. "Are you...sure you got it all?" he slowly asked, holding her gaze.

"Let me see," she said, and so he pushed his chair back further to face her more, and before he knew it she was sitting astride him, her lips hovering over his.

He blinked a few times, taken aback by her boldness. Tearing his eyes away from her chest, he looked up into her eyes. "Your Majesty, are you trying to seduce me?"

"Is it working?" she whispered before lowering her lips to his.

"It's unnecessary," he answered, and grasping her hips to pull her closer, he deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing past her lips to massage her own. He could taste the chocolate on her tongue.

MMMMMMMMMM

"Don't even think about moving."

She felt him smile into her shoulder. "Couldn't if I wanted to," he mumbled. "I've melted into you."

Anne hummed in agreement and stroked his back once more before letting her hands still. Closing her eyes, she took as deep a breath as she could and lay there, reveling in the weight of Aramis on top of her, and the feel of his still rapidly beating heart against her chest.

They had made love with abandon the night before, and the joy in their newfound sexual freedom had carried over into the morning. Aramis had taken his time in waking her up though; trailing soft kisses along her jaw while his hands started to roam her body. He had whispered in her ear that he was going to be easy on her, but apparently to him that meant teasing touches and drawing out his ministrations until she was repeating "Aramis, please," over and over again like a mantra.

"Are you ready for your first official engagement as First Minister?" she asked, remembering that they would have to get out of bed eventually. Louis was going to ceremoniously lay the first stone of the new garrison and she would be presenting Aramis to the public in his new role.

Aramis lifted himself up onto his forearms. "I don't know, smiling _and_ waving," he joked. "Sounds like a baptism by fire to me."

MMMMMMMMMM

"That wasn't so bad," Aramis murmured to Anne out of the corner of his mouth as they began their way to the carriage. He really didn't have to do anything except follow Anne and Louis as they were shown around the garrison, same as a musketeer, only he was meant to pay more attention to the architect's plans for rebuilding rather than the onlookers. He did also have to smile and wave, but there were plenty of things to smile about; watching Anne help Louis place the first cornerstone (though really it was the other way around), thinking about how Anne had Louis rehearse his short statement to Captain d'Artagnan back at the palace with Aramis as the audience, and remembering the softness of Anne's skin as he caressed her with kisses that morning.

Anne flashed him a small smile before turning it onto the cheering crowd, who were in especially good spirits since they had just heard news of a great victory at Rocroi that morning. " _That_ is what going easy on someone means," she said in a low voice. "Your interpretation has left me barely able to walk."

Reaching the carriage, Aramis wanted to tell her that she definitely wouldn't have been able to get out of bed had he not gone so easy, but just then an old man holding a bouquet of flowers fell onto the ground on the street ahead, right in the path of the carriage. A royal guard came to his side to help him up, but the man remained down on one knee, his head of white hair bowed. "My Queen!" he called out, holding the flowers up in offering.

Aramis met Anne's eyes and she nodded before holding up a hand to the guard that it was all right.

"Go inside, I'll be right back," Anne gently told Louis. She looked to d'Artagnan, who had accompanied them over. "Captain," she prompted for him to help the King up.

Resting a hand on the pommel of his sword, Aramis turned to d'Artagnan and gave a nod of his own, indicating that he would accompany Anne while d'Artagnan stayed with the King.

When he saw Anne begin her approach, Aramis a step behind, the old man grimaced and lowered his raised arm, bringing it closer to his body, and clasping his wrist with his right hand. Aramis wondered if he had sprained it when he fell, but then he noticed the man's hand move further up his sleeve...

Aramis reached out to touch Anne's arm and watched as the man diverted his eyes from Anne to him, his grimace falling away as his expression quickly changed from surprise to determination.

And then the man turned his hardened gaze back onto Anne before flinging the flowers backwards into the guard's face and then lunging upward.

"Stop!" Aramis yelled, stepping over and throwing his arm out in front of Anne to get her behind him while he began to swing his left arm over to try and make a grab at the man's hand, now brandishing a small knife that had been hidden in his sleeve.

The old man crashed into him with a surprising amount of force, knocking Aramis backwards into Anne as screams erupted from the crowd. He felt Anne grab at his waist and try to stop his fall, but the attacker's momentum and weight on top of Aramis' proved to be too much and she was pulled to the ground with them.

The attacker landed on his side next to Aramis, where he laid partially in Anne's lap. Scrambling to his knees, the man started to climb over Aramis's torso, still trying to get to Anne. Aramis tried to raise his left arm to stop him, but couldn't, so he reached around with his right and grabbed the back of the man's doublet just as the royal guard got there and did the same, wrenching the man back. The attacker got a hold on the hilt of Aramis' sword though, and pulled it out of its sheath as he was yanked back. He swung it at the royal guard's legs, slicing into the man's calf, but before he could make another move, two shots rang out and he fell to the ground.

D'Artagnan slid to his knees next to them seconds later, putting his pistol back on his belt as he did. "Majesty!"

Anne paid no attention to him though, her eyes were staring down at Aramis' midsection in horror.

He followed her gaze, and that's when Aramis saw the knife sticking out of his hand, and pinning it to his hip. Bile rose up his throat, and he closed his eyes and threw his head back as he swallowed it down. His hand was throbbing and the stinging pain was becoming increasingly sharper as his brain processed the injury.

He tried to push himself into a sitting position but immediately regretted it as the movement caused the knife to cut against his hand and side. Crying out, he fell back onto his elbow.

He heard d'Artagnan say his name and he opened his eyes to see him and Anne still looking down at him. Why was she still there? Was the King safe?

"Get! Them! Away!" he commanded d'Artagnan through gritted teeth. His brother looked at him sharply, conflict in his eyes, while Anne's head whipped towards the carriage where she had left their son. "Go," he breathed, and was relieved to see the shift from brother to captain in the blink of d'Artagnan's eyes before he went and started to pull Anne away.

It was then that Aramis caught a glimpse of the barrel of a gun behind her in a window high up overlooking the crowd.

"Go!" he urged as he tried to push himself up again. Pain erupted from his side once more but this time his cry was cut short as another shot went off and he was thrust into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Now we're cooking with gas!
> 
> So the previous chapter was still a bit of an extension of We are the Garrison, but now we've really departed from season 3. Now, obviously, I don't have episodes to build my missing scenes off of, so I've created my own narrative, but I'm building off of and including threads from my previous installments, so I still consider it a part of my series. And while this story is very much Annamis-centric, we'll still see and hear from the rest of the guys and their respective partners. Each chapter won't correspond to an (imagined) episode as before, but I've tried to keep up the double-meaning theme with the titles as the show often did *eyes emoji* and I'll use quotes from old episodes (with the exception of the first chapter) to still hint at what's about to happen.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> Historical background/inspiration:
> 
> \- Chocolate had been brought over to Spain by their conquistadors from Central America, and was enjoyed and kept secret by the nobility. Most historians credit Anne with introducing the drink to the rest of Europe. "The Spanish princess Anne of Austria, daughter of King Philip of Spain, presented her husband-to-be, Louis XIII of France, with samples of chocolate in 1615. She also shared samples with other powerful men in the court. The beans, by then, had been spilled" - Kay Frydenborg, _Chocolate: Sweet Science and Dark Secrets of the World's Favorite Treat_
> 
> -"According to a second theory, the transmission from Spain took place when Spanish monks sent gifts of the stuff (presumably cacao tablets or bricks) to their French confrères. This is possible, but again we are dealing with pure conjecture" - Sophie and Michael Coe, _The True History of Chocolate_ (I'm of the belief that even if Anne wasn't The First person to take chocolate outside of Spain, she was the one who made the formal introduction and spread the news about it)
> 
> -"we learn from the memoirs of the duc de Saint-Simon that Louis XIV was told by his Jesuit advisors to drink chocolate on fast days, as they did themselves, but to desist from his custom of dunking bread into it" - Sophie and Michael Coe, _The True History of Chocolate_
> 
> -"Every evening Mazarin met with the queen for what was called the small council. It was very small indeed, just the two of them in the queen's private cabinet, with the doors left open for the sake of decency, and her women within call" - Ruth Kleinman, _Anne of Austria_
> 
> -"When it became apparent that the existing buildings [of the Val-de Grâce convent] were inadequate, she [Anne] promised to pay one half the cost of a new convent. Construction on that began in 1624 with Anne herself laying the cornerstone" - Ruth Kleinman, _Anne of Austria_
> 
> -The Battle of Rocroi was fought on May 19th 1643, five days after Louis XIII died


	3. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting at the end of this chapter, I'll be including POVs from other characters here and there.

_I deserve a medal_

D'Artagnan was halfway out the carriage window, shouting something, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. All she could hear were the gunshots still echoing in her ears. Three of them. One of them was definitely d'Artagnan stopping her attacker. A third one sounded after d'Artagnan started to take her back to the carriage. But there was a second shot either right before or right after d'Artagnan's that she was unsure of. Was the attacker shot twice? Or was it meant for her or her son? How many assassins were out there? Did musketeer cadets carry pistols?

The carriage jolted forward, and Anne held Louis tighter against her as they remained kneeling on the floor. She hoped he couldn't feel how rapidly her heart was beating, and that the jostling of the carriage would mask how her whole body was trembling.

Once the commotion of the crowd started to fade she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Majesty."

D'Artagnan was half-kneeling on the seat. He held out a hand to help her onto the opposite bench and then Louis onto her lap. "You're unharmed?"

She glanced at her right hand, there were scratches on the back of it, trailing from her knuckles. She must have gotten them from the fall or when she took her hand out from under Aramis. "I'm fine," she told him. They were stinging a bit, but they were nothing. She looked to her son. "Darling, are you all right?"

"What's going on?" he responded.

Anne inhaled sharply. What should she tell him?

"I don't know," she answered honestly. Someone had tried to kill her, but she didn't know who he was or why or where the other shots came from. "I don't know, but Aramis was hurt and it wasn't safe for us to stay."

"Where is he? Will he be all right?" Louis quickly asked, and it broke her heart to hear the worry in his voice, to see how attached he was to him even after a few days.

She looked at d'Artagnan, unsure of the seriousness of Aramis' injury, but she could see the fear and uncertainty in his own eyes. "Constance is with him, she'll see him well taken care of," she assured them all, including herself.

D'Artagnan cleared his throat. "And Aramis is tough, Sire. He'll want to be reunited with you and your mother as soon as possible. You can be sure of that."

Anne nodded, thankful for his words, even though the sight of the knife sticking out of Aramis' hand kept flashing before her eyes, even though she kept envisioning Aramis' pale face in her lap instead of her husband's.

Soon they were at the palace, and d'Artagnan was jumping out of the carriage before it came to a complete stop.

"D'Artagnan, the King," she called out, and then guided her son into d'Artagnan's arms so that he could be rushed inside. Her hands were shaking as she reached for the door frame and her sore legs nearly gave out when she made her own exit, but once both feet were securely on the ground she hurried after her son, calling for the royal physician to be sent to the garrison as she did.

"Go," she told d'Artagnan, taking Louis from him. "Ensure everything is done to save him."

With a quick bow of his head, d'Artagnan ran off, and Anne took a deep breath, hugging her son tighter against her. Now all she could do was wait.

MMMMMMMMMM

"Majesty."

Anne nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Milady's voice. Looking down at the rosary in her hands, she was relieved not to have snapped the string apart.

Standing up from her prie dieu, she went and checked that Louis had gone off to have his supper before closing the doors between their rooms. "I didn't summon you," she said, walking over to the other side of the room.

"I was there, at the ceremony," Milady quickly informed her. The usual coolness in her voice was gone. "I spotted one of the assassins in a window and stopped him as he tried to flee."

"Did he say anything? Do the musketeers have him now?"

"We fought. He pushed me away and pulled out a vial of poison, and drank it before I could stop him. I asked who he was working for and he replied 'for Guillaume' before he died. I left him there and searched for this Guillaume. I haven't found anything yet."

Anne clutched her rosary to her chest and grasped her elbow with her other hand, trying to hold herself together as Milady confirmed a second assassin. She was still at a loss as to their motive, but at least they had a clue now. "Did you see Aramis?" she asked, hoping for some good news. "Do you know how he is?"

Milady opened her mouth, but then closed it again, pressing her lips together. She looked down at the floor. "I saw them carry him into the garrison," she finally said, and when her eyes met Anne's they were actually sympathetic. "Majesty...his body was limp, he wasn't moving."

Anne stood there, frozen. Could she have lost him?

"I have news for Her Majesty," came d'Artagnan's voice from the hallway outside the room.

She turned back to Milady, wanting to know more, wanting to make sure she understood what she was saying, but "I'm sorry" was all Milady said before bowing her head and disappearing behind the door seconds before d'Artagnan came into the room.

He bowed and it took all her patience and self restraint to not immediately demand he answer the question that was clawing at her mouth to get out.

"He's alive and in stable condition," d'Artagnan informed her, and she nearly sagged onto the bed in relief, but she was able to get a grip on the bedpost and hold herself up, "though he must stay at the garrison..." he continued, but his words faded as she glanced over to her son's bedroom, knowing Louis will want to go with her back to the garrison.

MMMMMMMMMM

"Constance put him in Brujon's room since it was empty," d'Artagnan explained as he led them through the garrison. She knew he wasn't happy about her and Louis leaving the safety of the palace while so much was still uncertain following the attack, but she insisted they see Aramis.

After going down a small set of steps. d'Artagnan pushed over a final door and Anne tightened her grip on Louis' hand. "Remember to be quiet in case he's sleeping," she reminded Louis, though she hoped that wouldn't be the case. She didn't want to see him lying still, to have to watch for the rise and fall of his chest to know that he was alive.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the room and saw Aramis lying on the bed, a blanket pulled up to his bare shoulders. He turned his head on the pillow to see who had come in, and then lifting it, squinted at the sight of them.

"Constance, did you give me that medicine already? I think I'm seeing things." His voice was gruff, but her heart lifted at hearing it all the same

Louis giggled. "Aramis, it's really us!"

"Then forgive me, Your Majesties, for not standing in your presence."

Anne smiled tremulously at the exchange, and after acknowledging Constance where she stood by a table in a corner of the room, approached the bed with Louis. "It is us who should be bowing to you." She took a seat in the chair d'Artagnan placed next to the bed and pulled Louis onto her lap. "I owe you my life once again."

Aramis held her gaze for several seconds, a mixture of gratitude and relief in his tired eyes. He then looked down at Louis, who had insisted he put on his pauldron before they came back, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile. "Didn't I tell you, Sire? I'll always be a musketeer."

"Do you have a hole in your hand?" Louis asked bluntly. The question made Aramis chuckle, but it turned into a hiss as they were reminded of the injuries that lied underneath the blanket.

"Louis, really," she admonished.

"But you said he was stabbed and that it went through his hand!"

"That's true, Sire, but you can't see through the opening, not all the way at least," Aramis explained.

"Does it hurt a lot?"

"It did before, but now I feel all achy and sore. The physician has given me some medicine to make it hurt less."

"Where is Doctor Delorme?" Anne questioned. She wanted to talk to him.

"He's checking up on one of the cadets," Constance answered.

"A cadet was injured in the attack?"

"I'm afraid that poor Francis learned the hard way to point an opponent's pistol up at the sky rather than down at one's own feet," d'Artagnan informed her.

Anne raised her eyebrows. "He was shot in the foot?"

"A musket ball, Sire, might have left a hole in our poor Francis' foot," said Aramis, to which Louis softly gasped. "Are you going to see how he's doing, d'Artagnan?"

Anne watched as Aramis raised his eyebrows and then looked pointedly at Louis, and once she understood his meaning, she gave d'Artagnan a slight nod when he looked over to her.

"Yes, I am." D'Artagnan leaned toward Louis. "Sire, would you like to accompany me? I'm sure Doctor Delorme would be happy to answer any questions you have, and maybe we can give the horses some treats after."

Louis jumped off her lap and turned to face her. "Can I?"

"All right, _but_ you are to stay with d'Artagnan and do what he says. And I want you to thank the cadet for protecting you and then wish him a quick recovery. You are not to bother him if he is hurting though, understand?"

Nodding excitedly, Louis went over to d'Artagnan but then quickly spun back around. "Thank you for protecting my mother, Aramis, and I wish you a quick recovery."

A fond smile appeared on Aramis' face. "That's very kind of you to say, Sire, thank you."

As they departed, Constance came over and laid a hand on Anne's shoulder. "I'll go with them," she told her. "I'm glad you're all right, Majesty." And with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, left.

Turning her attention back to Aramis, Anne picked up his right hand from where it laid on the blanket, and, covering it with her other hand, brought it up to her lips to lay a kiss on his knuckles.

"You were hurt?" he inquired, pulling the back of her hand more towards him and brushing his thumb over the few thin scrapes that ran along it.

"Don't you dare worry for one second about my hand," she told him with as much sternness she could muster, and brought their right hands down to rest on the blanket, hiding the red streaks from his view.

He looked up at her, and though he said nothing, his eyes still conveyed how sorry he was to see her wounded in any capacity.

Lowering her gaze, she swallowed thickly. "You keep getting hurt because of me."

Aramis shook his head minutely. "It's your gifts that protect me."

She pouted in confusion, and he looked over to the table Constance had been at earlier. "Go and see."

Frowning, Anne went over to the table. She saw vials, rolls of bandages, shears, and then she came across his minister medal, only it had a bullet lodged in it.

Her hand went to her mouth as she gasped. She ran her thumb over the round ball and noted how firmly it stayed in place. If the medal hadn't been there, if the bullet had hit just to the side of it, she wouldn't be talking to Aramis right now.

Returning to Aramis' bedside, she reached over and slowly pulled back the blanket, revealing the big purple bruise in the middle of his chest. "The other gunshot…" she said, sitting heavily in her chair and closing her eyes as the sound echoed in her ears, "it hit you."

"The physician...Delorme, he thinks the impact only bruised my ribs, thankfully," he informed her while he moved the blanket back up. "It certainly knocked me out and gave Constance quite a scare, but it made it easier for them to move me."

"And your other injuries? D'Artagnan didn't get to tell me much, only that the knife missed anything vital," she glanced over to the other side of the bed, to where his left arm lay hidden under the blanket, "besides your hand, that is."

His gaze fell to his midsection. "The knife was small and didn't go deep on account of my hand getting in the way," he joked darkly. "And I didn't lose much blood since it stayed in."

"And your hand?"

"Hurts like hell-if you'll excuse my language."

She shook her head. "You have no need to apologize to me."

"Delorme says I may have lost some dexterity in my fingers, but with rehabilitation I should be able to get back to normal use."

Nodding, Anne took his right hand again and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'll make sure you have everything you need."

"Seeing you and Louis, that's all I needed," he told her. "But you should be heading back to the palace; it's getting dark and we do not know how many were involved in this conspiracy and if they intend to try again."

"The man who shot the cadet, he was caught?"

"Yes, but concussed in the process so he's not offered anything useful yet. D'Artagnan will interrogate him more in the morning. The one who shot me was found dead, a vial of poison in his hand."

"Milady visited me before I came here," she informed him, "she was at the ceremony and confronted the third man but only got him to confess that he did it 'for Guillaume' before he died. I don't know who Guillaume is though."

Aramis sighed with a grimace. "We'll have to tell d'Artagnan and Constance about her."

Anne nodded in concession. She had wanted to keep their friends innocent of Milady's doings, but how could they all work together if they did not share all they knew?

"I will do it," Aramis told her.

"You need to rest. I will tell them."

"I know their grievances against her, and I will not be able to rest until d'Artagnan has seen you and Louis safely returned to the palace," he persisted, a strain creeping into his voice towards the end.

Anne exhaled. "If you insist. You know I am in no position to deny you anything."

He gave her a smug, yet tired, smile, and as much as she wanted to stay longer, she knew she was delaying his rest. Getting out of the chair, she leaned over and gently kissed his lips before pressing her forehead to his.

"I love you," she whispered, and standing straight, gave a final squeeze of his hand. Before she could let go though, he brought her hand to his lips and closed his eyes tightly as he kissed her knuckles.

He seemed to sink further into the bed once he let her go, the exhaustion of the day becoming harder and harder for him to hide with each passing second.

Reaching the doorway, she turned back around, shaking her head lightly. "The crucifix, the medal-" she looked over and met his eyes "-you earned them both."

Anne reluctantly left him, and went outside into the yard. Constance was out there watching d'Artagnan, who had Louis on his hip, and was handing him carrots to feed his horse.

"We'll be back in the morning," she told Constance as she came up beside her. "Please send Delorme to the palace once he's finished seeing all his patients."

Constance nodded, and Anne gently grasped her wrist. "And thank you, for taking care of him."

"Of course," Constance replied, rubbing a hand along Anne's arm.

Anne glanced over to her son. "You've always taken care of us."

The hand on Anne's arm moved to briefly cup her cheek before they turned together to watch d'Artagnan and Louis, with Anne hooking her arm around Constance's elbow as they did.

"Mama, look!" Louis shouted excitedly upon being lifted onto the horse's back, d'Artagnan holding him steady.

"You look just like a musketeer, darling," she grinned, though her eyes started to well at the sentiment. She wished Aramis could come out and see their little musketeer.

Anne heard Constance laugh softly beside her. "The garrison's first child," she began, "it's been him all along."

MMMMMMMMMM

She returned to Aramis' bedside the following morning, but Aramis was in a deep sleep. Delorme explained to her and the d'Artagnans that since the initial shock and adrenaline had worn off, Aramis' body was incredibly sore from both the impact of the hits and then the removal of the knife, and so he had been given more medicine for the pain.

Once Delorme left, she pulled back the blanket and saw for herself the angry bruises that had further spread across Aramis' chest. With a shudder, she pulled the blanket back up, wishing that she could do more for him, but grateful that he was resting peacefully.

After lightly running the back of her fingers down Aramis' cheek, she went to follow d'Artagnan out as he was going to bring her to see the captured assassin next, but once they reached the door, he only opened it a crack to check that no one was near before closing it again.

"Majesty, before we go, I, well, we-" he glanced over at Constance, "-just wanted to ask if you're sure keeping Milady on is a good idea."

"I know she helped us with Rochefort, but she's a very dangerous woman, Majesty, you can't trust her," said Constance.

Anne bowed her head. "I know, and I appreciate your concern, both of you, but she didn't just help us, she saved Aramis' life. Tréville had the foresight to see how beneficial it would be to have her on _our_ side, and she has so far proved him right. Gaston is no longer a threat, and it was her who stopped the man who shot Aramis from escaping. I didn't even ask her to be at the ceremony and she was watching out for us."

She knew they would be uneasy about the arrangement, she still wasn't completely comfortable with the woman herself, but she had to protect her son by any means necessary, and that included employing the likes of Milady de Winter.

"Believe me, I don't trust her, and I have not forgotten the humiliation she caused me as the King's mistress," Anne added, "nor have I forgotten who she worked for before that, but she has certain skills that could be used either for me or against me. I chose the former, and all I ask is that you trust me."

Sighing, d'Artagnan put his hands on his hips and glanced over to his wife. Constance looked like she wanted to further protest, but ended up pressing her lips together in resignation.

"The man you arrested," Anne began once d'Artagnan resumed leading her to the room they were keeping one of the would-be assassins, "what do you know of him?"

"He's a former red guard named Laurent de Garmeaux," he answered. "Been with the regiment for years but he shaved his beard and cut his hair so I didn't recognize him at first."

"What has he said?"

"Nothing. He refuses to even look at me."

When they reached the door, d'Artagnan nodded to the cadets on guard, the door was unlocked and she was led into the room. There Laurent was, his hands each tied to an arm of the chair he was sitting on and his ankles each tied to the front legs. A bandage was wrapped around the head wound that must have concussed him. Stepping aside, d'Artagnan signaled for the door to be closed behind them.

Laurent looked over at his visitors briefly before resting the back of his head against the beam of wood the back of his chair had been tied to. Her own gaze didn't linger on him for long, instead she walked right past him and stopped to look out a nearby window. "I assume you know the punishment for regicide, whether or not it is successful," she said without looking at him. She was sure Laurent did, but she continued on anyway, and cooly described the process of being hung, drawn, and quartered.

She glanced at him once she finished, and could see that he had visibly paled. His eyes were squeezed shut and it looked like he might even be sick.

"What do you have against Her Majesty?" d'Artagnan asked, coming over to stand next to Laurent. "You were a red guard, you served her along with the late King, and it was Tréville who disbanded your regiment."

Exhaling heavily, Laurent opened his eyes and began to lower his head to look at d'Artagnan. "I wasn't aiming for her, I was aiming for _you_."

D'Artagnan took a step back. "Me?"

Laurent turned away from d'Artagnan to look at her. "This is what happens when you disband regiments and put upstart farm boys in charge of the musketeers."

"D'Artagnan was standing right next to the King," Anne pointed out, stepping closer to Laurent. "Even if we believed you, what if you had missed? You could have killed my son."

"Which is why I waited until he stepped away from the carriage! So I wouldn't be responsible for the death of another child!"

"What do you mean?" d'Artagnan pressed.

"Guillaume," Anne answered, remembering the last words of the assassin Milady confronted.

Laurent's blue eyes flashed with anger. "Don't, don't you speak his name."

"He was your son," said Anne softly, holding his gaze.

Laurent bowed his head, shaking it slowly. "No. He was my godson, but I loved him like a son."

"The man in the window," Anne concluded. He was Guillaume's father. "He's dead," she added, in case d'Artagnan hadn't told him and Laurent was still trying to protect the man. "Drank a vial of poison when caught trying to flee, and said his son's name before he died."

Laurent gave no response though. His head remained bowed and his eyebrows knitted together as he closed his eyes.

D'Artagnan looked at her, unsure of how she wanted to proceed.

She took another step closer. "If you tell me who the other men were, I will accept that your target was the Captain, and lessen your sentence to life imprisonment. You're not protecting anyone by not speaking, and only condemning yourself to further interrogations and a harsher death sentence."

After several more seconds, Laurent took a deep breath. "Janvier and I grew up together. We were best friends. His father, Gérard, treated me like a son. Janvier's wife died of a fever when Guillaume was little, they had no other children. Guillaume went off to fight in the war as soon as he was old enough; went off to be cannon fodder," Laurent told them bitterly. "When the King died, they could not stomach the thought of living under the rule of a Spaniard-" he looked up to meet her eyes, his gaze hard "-to see you surrender this country to Spain and make Guillaume's death pointless."

"And so you decided to make a six-year-old motherless, an orphan."

"To be raised by the man next in line," Laurent countered.

Anne inhaled sharply and heard d'Artagnan ask her who was next in line.

A haughty look came over Laurent's face. "The Prince of Condé," he answered. "A true Frenchman and the hero of Rocroi."

MMMMMMMMMM

A few days later, and after much insistence from the patient, Doctor Delorme deemed Aramis fit enough to be moved from the garrison to the palace for the rest of his recuperation. Although Anne didn't want Aramis to push himself too far too fast, she was admittedly impatient to have him near again.

She went to his rooms that first night back to check on him before she went to bed, only to find him sitting at his desk.

"Doctor Delorme said you were to be on strict bed rest," she chided, closing the faux bookcase behind her.

"I can rest in a chair and still catch up on all this." He gestured at the stack of papers on his desk. "Though I must confess the reports are doing a better job than the medicine of putting me to sleep."

"I can help you go through those another night," she told him, setting down her candlestick before resting a hand on the back of his chair. "But I'm getting you back into bed before I leave."

He turned slightly to look up at her. "Leave? You're not staying?"

"I didn't think it would be wise, with your injuries. And I wouldn't want to cause any discomfort."

Reaching over, he took her free hand. "Majesty, no amount of pain could prevent me from wanting to be in your arms," he said, and brought her hand to his lips and laid a gentle kiss on her knuckles

Letting go of her hand, he started to get up, leaning heavily on his right arm while his left remained close to his chest. She pulled the chair away once he was standing, and watched to make sure he didn't need any assistance walking. Before he could reach the bedroom, she took her candle and another off his desk, and went ahead to place them on the side table.

Turning to the bed, she went to the side she usually slept on, and pulled back the duvet. "Here," she said, and held her arms out for him to come over.

"I'm gone for a few days and so you've claimed my side of the bed, is it?"

She smiled wryly. "It's so I don't accidentally hit your wound, my love."

"Ah yes, you do tend to dream about getting into tavern brawls," he quipped before slowly lowering himself onto the bed with a groan.

She stood in front of him, between his legs, and laid her hands on his shoulders. "Do tell me if you need anything, including space," she told him seriously.

He responded by pulling at the knot of the tie around her robe, bringing her closer to him. "Call me 'my love' again."

MMMMMMMMMM

D'Artagnan pulled up a chair next to Aramis' bed and sat down. "I've just been with the Queen. Laurent de Garmeaux has been formally sentenced: life imprisonment for attempted murder and endangering the royal family."

Aramis nodded and pushed himself further up against the pillows. "And you believe his claim that he was aiming for you?"

D'Artagnan leaned back in the chair. "My cadet Francis confirmed that Laurent pulled out his pistol and began to aim when I went to shoot the first assassin. At that moment, I would have been between the King in the carriage, and you and the Queen on the ground, with my back turned to Laurent." He looked down at his hands, at his wedding band, and thought back to a conversation he had with Constance after he told her of Laurent's confession. He'd been targeted before, but she had made him realize that this time it wasn't just because he was a threat or a body in the way, it was because of his position. "From a strategic standpoint, shooting me could have helped clear the way for his accomplices to carry out their mission, and even if the other two still failed..."

"It would be a blow to Her Majesty and the musketeers," Aramis finished.

"And I imagine Athos would be quite annoyed at having to move back to Paris after finally settling down in his new home," he added, to which Aramis raised his eyebrows. "We got a letter from Sylvie; they've found a house in Saint-Gobain that they're going to fix up."

He proceeded to relay the contents of the brief letter, and they noted the irony of how Athos once had to be dragged out to the country by his villagers and now they'd have to drag him back to Paris.

"What can I say, the love of a woman can change you." With a groan, Aramis swung his legs over the side of the bed and started to push himself onto his feet. "And speaking of letters and men in love, I have a letter for Elodie, came with Porthos' report."

D'Artagnan immediately got out of his chair to help steady his brother. "You could just tell me where it is," he said, though he knew it was pointless; once Aramis was in motion, in either mind or body, it was hard to stop him.

Aramis waved a hand at him and began shuffling towards his office. "I feel like I'm slowly sinking into that bed," he said once he'd reached his desk. "The Queen hardly wants me to leave it, though not in the way I'd enjoy."

"I'm sure that's not what Athos intended when he recommended you for the position anyway."

Ignoring the comment, Aramis pulled out a letter from among the many papers on his desk and handed it over. Pocketing it, d'Artagnan asked about Porthos' report and how things were going with the war. The victory at Rocroi was heralded as a sign of God's goodwill upon France and it's new king, a sign that they were on the path to winning the war now that it had been proven that one of Spain's greatest forces could be defeated.

"And the Prince of Condé, what do you know of him? Could he have been involved in the plot?" He really didn't know anything about the Prince apart from him being a general, and, as he recently learned, next in line for the throne now that Gaston was dead.

Exhaling heavily, Aramis sat down behind his desk. He rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, keeping his left hand elevated. "He's been off at the northern front, amassing fame and glory, and the news of Gaston's death only just got out-"

"And we know he didn't kill _him_ to move up in the line of succession" d'Artagnan interjected. He was still sore about the subject of Gaston's assassination, but what was done was done, and a dangerous enemy was no longer a threat. Whether a new enemy had taken his place was now the question.

He caught the tensing of Aramis' jaw as he met his eyes. "No, we don't know if he's aware Gaston's dead. Additionally, there's no connection between him and the assassins. Guillaume was never under his command. As for the attack, you'd think someone with his status and wealth would hire people more...professional, and capable of carrying it out more discreetly."

_Like you and the Queen did_ , d'Artagnan thought darkly. Perhaps they had a point though in hiring Milady for the purpose of keeping her out of the hands of potential employers like the Prince.

"No, I don't think he hired them, instructed them, suggested it, or anything," Aramis continued. "This was an act of revenge, of grief over the loss of a loved one. Still, I think we should keep an eye on Condé, in case he does get any ideas. I'll ask Porthos to keep an ear out as well when I write to him." There was a glint in Aramis' eyes when he looked back up at him and raised his eyebrows. "He'll be sorry to have missed out on questioning Laurent; he loves a good interrogation."

D'Artagnan chuckled softly, thinking of past interrogations and Porthos' favored tactics. "Her Majesty is quite good at getting people to talk, I must say." Watching the Queen, he had been amazed to see how she had transformed from one room to the next. Back with Aramis, she was all softness and warmth and worry, greeting him and Constance with a tremulous smile, but then with Laurent she was cold and hard. Her blue eyes had darkened and somehow she even seemed taller, and he was reminded of the time she confronted the Cardinal after he confessed to trying to have her killed, how she had brought the most powerful man in France to his knees.

Once she began to speak, he had almost felt sorry for what Laurent was about to experience.

With a hint of a smile, Aramis leaned back in his chair. "There's something about her…you look into her eyes and you just want to spill your guts."

D'Artagnan looked pointedly in the direction of Aramis' waist and the wound that lay there. "But did you have to take it so literally?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical background/inspiration:
> 
> -On July 28, 1835, there was an assassination attempt on Louis-Philippe, King of the French, by a Corsican ex-soldier and two other conspirators. Louis-Philippe was out reviewing the National Guard, "accompanied by his three eldest sons and several of his marshals and ministers, and had reached the Boulevard du Temple when a volley of bullets was fired from an upper window...the Duc de Broglie, then prime minister, was hit in the chest and saved only by his Legion of Honour star" -John Julius Norwich, _A History of France_
> 
> -Of course, Aramis being saved by his medal is also a trope which I've found out to be cleverly referred to as "Pocket Protector". The show used it with Luc in 3x01 and in the 1993 Disney movie The Three Musketeers, Aramis is shot but his crucifix stops the bullet
> 
> -Charles de Lorme was the chief physician to Louis XIV (and his father and grandfather). I'm using the "Delorme" version for his name because I thought it looked too similar to Lemay otherwise (and it took me ages to decide upon all the other names I had to use for this chapter).
> 
> -Louis II, Prince of Condé, also known as le Grande Condé, was a renown general who led the French victory at the Battle of Rocroi. The Princes of Condé was a cadet branch of the House of Bourbon, descended from an uncle of Henry IV. While this Prince of Condé was never the heir (due to Philippe's existence), his father was Henry IV's heir before Louis XIII was born, and then second-in-line (after Gaston) before Louis XIV was born


	4. Signs

_Does it hurt?_

A few weeks after the attack, Anne sat in a chair next to his bed and relayed Milady's latest report before they settled in for the night. His heroics had won him the favor of the people, though there were some who believed it to be a sign that he should have remained a musketeer, and some were even toying with the idea that the ghost of Henry IV had inhabited the man who tried to stab Anne.

"Good King Henry was on the receiving end of the stabbing though," he said, taking a lemon from Anne and putting it into the palm of his left hand. Doctor Delorme had advised him to start trying to use his hand more and recommended he try flexing his fingers around lemons, though now that he'd been working his hand for a few nights, Aramis decided to take it a step further and try squeezing some juice out of them, and so he cut a small slit into the skin of the fruit.

"This would have been an act of revenge against the Catholic fanatic who killed him, and the Spaniard he never wanted to marry his son," Anne explained.

He slowly tried to curl his stiff fingers around the lemon more and was pleased to see some of the juice was collecting in the small bowl in his lap, permeating the air with it's fragrance. The knife had gone in between his thumb and forefinger, and it was frustrating him that his trigger finger was so unresponsive. "I see, but the assassins did not succeed. I would interpret that to mean you are meant to be regent then."

"And do you believe in signs?"

"I believe in you."

Anne blushed and the corners of her lips curved up at the statement. "Does your charm ever wane?"

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Not when you're around."

"I'm pleased to hear it. And I'll be glad to have you at my side again at tomorrow's meeting. The council wants to further discuss and possibly close the investigation into Gaston's death since his letters and the promissory note for Grimaud have been found." Aramis frowned. Once news had reached Paris, Anne had sent men out to investigate, though not before Milady was given a chance to slip out and return the treasonous letters to their owner, in addition to planting a promissory note showing that Gaston owed Grimaud money for funding his attempted coup.

He readjusted his grip on the lemon and worried about what the council really thought of it all. From what Anne had told him of the last couple of meetings he had missed, they seemed to believe Grimaud or his men to be behind Gaston's death, but if they, or the people for that matter, suspected Anne to be behind it, he needed to be fit enough to defend her and their son. Clenching his fist, he suddenly felt juice running down his palm and realized too late that he had turned the lemon when he had adjusted his grip and that the slit was no longer facing away from his hand.

He hissed as the liquid reached his sensitive wound. He had asked that his palm only be lightly wrapped to allow for more range of motion, and the thin bandage was quickly saturated. Dropping the lemon, he tore the material off his stinging hand.

Anne jumped out of her chair at his exclamation. "What is it?"

He shook his head as he pressed his hand to the dry bedsheet and exhaled heavily, thankful, at least, that he didn't upturn the bowl of juice onto Anne. "Bandage got wet. I'll need a fresh one."

Taking the bowl and offending lemon away, Anne went and got a clean bandage, and proceeded to rewrap his hand. He had always admired her long, slender fingers, and they were gentle and nimble in their work.

"You're getting quite good at that," he commented, approving of how tight and secure it was.

"You and Constance are good teachers," she replied. He had observed her back at the garrison, intently watching as Constance dressed his wounds while he explained the process. Anne had wanted to help his recovery in any way, and did not shy away from the sight of his injuries, reminding him that she had seen far worse things in her lifetime.

She took what was left of the bandage roll and put it on a small side table along with the scissors she had used. "Do you want another one just to press into, or is that enough for tonight?" she asked, standing next to the bowl of lemons that was also on the table.

He waved his right hand. "All due respect to Doctor Delorme, but those could be put to better use elsewhere. I'd rather they be sent back to the kitchens or given to the refugees. They're too small for my hand anyway."

"But what will you use instead? Delorme said it was important that you exercise your hand. What about oranges? Some of the nobles have orangeries, I can…" she trailed off as he began shaking his head again.

"Please, you don't have to do that, I can work my hand without a piece of fruit."

"But the doctor said it would be better if you were holding something firm but sof-" she stopped herself, pressing her lips together. She then walked over and took off her robe, draping it over the back of the chair she had been sitting on. Instead of going over to her side of the bed though, she pushed back the sheets and gathered the bottom of her chemise into her hands before carefully climbing up onto his lap.

"What's this?" he asked, though he had an idea of where she was going.

"An alternative, as well as an incentive," she answered, sliding her chemise off her shoulders and pulling it down to her waist.

He stroked her thighs with his thumbs, his hands already itching to travel upwards. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

"You can tell me with your hands, specifically the left one."

"With pleasure."

MMMMMMMMMM

"Our troops have tried to push into Flanders, but in the month that has passed since Rocroi, the Spanish have regrouped and are holding their positions."

"A stalemate," said Magistrate Bellavoix curtly.

"They have been weakened though. We have word that they are abandoning their tercio units and adopting our style of infantry lines." Aramis looked to Anne. "We are in a good position, Majesty."

"There is another matter to be discussed with Your Majesty," began Bellavoix, pulling Aramis' gaze away from Anne to see the magistrate leaning forward and resting his interlocked hands on the table. "A Spanish envoy was stopped outside the city. Don Diego claims to carry letters of condolences from King Philip and Queen Elisabeth. He insists that there is no intention of discussing the war or negotiations, either through his person or the letters."

Aramis looked over at Anne and caught the slight raise of her eyebrows before she relaxed her face into a neutral expression. "And how does the council suggest I respond?" she asked calmly, and with great restraint, Aramis thought, knowing right away that she would want to hear from her brother.

"We believe it would be best that Your Majesty neither receive the envoy nor the letters," Bellavoix answered.

"Even if this visit is simply to express condolences to our recently widowed Queen as other heads of state have?" Aramis asked on Anne's behalf.

"We are at war with Spain and have a Spanish Regent-"

"I am aware," Aramis interjected.

"-and any contact between the two, irregardless of what is actually discussed or not discussed, could be seen as suspect by our allies, not to mention the people," Bellavoix explained. "Don Diego is a powerful and highly regarded diplomat, someone who would be fully prepared and capable of turning a humble visit into negotiations."

Aramis sighed, realizing he was fighting a losing battle. "The Queen of Spain is our late King's sister, a daughter of France. You wouldn't allow her letter to be passed on?" he asked, trying to get Anne something.

"We cannot risk it, Aramis," said Anne, settling the matter. She met his eyes briefly, assuring him it was all right, and then looked down the table to Bellavoix on the opposite end. "Though I would like to send a message expressing my regret. Let there be no doubt or confusion in regards to my refusal, and no offense taken."

Aramis looked down the table as well, taking in the shrugging shoulders and nodding heads along the way.

"I suppose…"

"I will deliver the message," Aramis quickly declared.

MMMMMMMMMM

After assuring Anne and the council that he would be up to the task despite his still-healing injuries, he rode out with d'Artagnan and a couple of cadets to meet the Spanish messenger and relay Anne's carefully crafted response.

Don Diego came up the road a few minutes later, flanked by two men. He looked to be a middle-aged man, his long brown hair greying at the temples. He had a thin line of a goatee and the ends of his mustache came to fine points in contrast to his rounded face.

"Don Diego,' Aramis greeted as the Spaniards brought their horses to a stop.

"You must be the new First Minister, I've heard so much about," Don Diego replied, speaking in French.

"Depends on what you've heard."

Don Diego laughed, his ruddy cheeks making him look even more jovial. "I consider saving the Queen Regent's life a very good thing." He raised his eyebrows. "Which brings me to the reason for my being here. I assure you my intention is only to extend the sincerest of condolences from myself, my King and Queen, and the Spanish people to our former princess upon the death of her husband, the King."

Aramis noted how Don Diego referred to Anne as their former princess. He was sure they all considered Anne being regent a very good thing, an advantage they could use in negotiations. And while it was true that Anne still cared deeply for her family and the country she had been born and raised in, they did not realize though the lengths Anne would go for her son.

"The Queen Regent is unable to receive you and sends her regrets," Aramis firmly informed Don Diego, who nodded in acceptance. "Her Majesty wanted me to tell you though that she would have gladly welcomed you to court, but being a woman with so little knowledge of state affairs and diplomatic negotiations, she simply had to follow the advice of her council. She hopes you will understand the need for her to obey her council's resolution, as well as avoiding any suspicion or confusion as to where her loyalties lie."

Don Diego's face had split into a grin while Aramis delivered Anne's message, and was chuckling softly by the end of it.

Aramis glanced over to see d'Artagnan's confused look before turning his attention back to Don Diego. "Something amuses you?"

Don Diego raised a hand. "Forgive me, Minister, I mean no offense." He paused and smiled warmly. "Only Her Majesty sounds just like her mother."

"You knew her mother?"

"Indeed, indeed. An extremely clever and capable woman, as well as beautiful." His gaze fell. "When she passed, it was as if all of Spain's happiness left with her." He looked Aramis in the eye. "I hope your people realize how lucky they are to have her daughter as their Queen."

"If they don't, I'll see to it that they do."

Aramis soon ended the meeting, relieved that Don Diego had taken the rejection without quarrel. He would have liked to talk to the man more, in fact he very much would have liked to discuss peace, but he was First Minister now, and even though that meant he had more power than when he acted as a go-between for Anne's negotiations before, it also meant that he was under greater scrutiny and had to adhere to Anne and the council's decisions. They had to play the game now, and make sure they had the support of the council, their allies, and the people.

"That went better than I thought it would," said d'Artagnan once Don Diego and his men were out of earshot.

"What, you didn't think me capable of delivering a message?" Aramis lightly countered. He shifted in his saddle and felt his shirt sticking to his side. Pulling his coat away, he looked down and softly groaned as he saw a line of small red dots on his crisp white shirt where his wound was.

"You tore your stitches, didn't you?" D'Artagnan leaned over his saddle to try and get a look. "The Queen did want you to use a carriage."

Aramis threw him a look as he pressed a hand to his side. D'Artagnan knew full well that if given the option, both of them would always prefer the freedom of riding horseback to being in the confines of a carriage.

"Come on, let's get you to the garrison," d'Artagnan prompted. "Her Majesty will have my head if I let you bleed out while we're out here."

After Constance tended to his wound and d'Artagnan gave him one of his shirts to borrow, Aramis returned to the palace and relayed Don Diego's response to Anne and the council. A few hours later he went to see Anne for their small council meeting. She was busy working at her desk when he arrived, something he often walked in on once they had resumed their meetings.

"I'll be with you in a minute." Anne glanced up at him before looking back down at her work. "You changed your shirt again."

Aramis slowly straightened out of his bow. He thought he had felt her eyes lingering on his shirt collar once he came back before the council.

"I might have overdone it a little riding out to meet Don Diego and pulled a few of my stitches," he confessed. "I'm perfectly fine, I just didn't want to alarm anyone with a spot of blood, so I stopped at the garrison to get cleaned up and borrowed a shirt from d'Artagnan." He clasped his hands behind his back. "The boy still has some filling out to do though so I had to change again before I ripped it," he added, and was glad to see Anne stifling a smile at his joke.

Resisting the urge to walk up behind her and give her shoulders a reassuring rub, he instead proceeded to walk over to the large portrait of Anne's mother that hung on the wall next to the one of her father, and looked up at the painting with renewed interest after his conversation with Don Diego. He admittedly knew little about Anne's mother. She had died fairly young, a couple years before Anne left for France, he believed, and Anne's father never remarried. From what he could tell and the few stories Anne had told him of her childhood, she had come from a close, loving family, and being the eldest, Anne probably would have felt the loss of her mother the most keenly.

He heard the scraping of a chair being pushed back and then footsteps as Anne came over and stood next to him.

"Don Diego knew her. He said he could tell from your message how much you're like her." Not just in spirit, but in looks, Aramis thought, taking note of similarities in appearance.

"He did?"

"He called her a clever and capable woman. And beautiful too." He glanced over at Anne. "I proudly confirmed that you were indeed all those things and more."

She gave a small, but pleased smile, and the blush that appeared on her cheeks made her look even more like the portrait. Exhaling, she looked up at her mother. "The things she could have done if she had more time."

"How did she die?" Aramis asked softly.

Anne crossed her arms in front of her, her hands gripping into her sleeves. "My youngest brother, Alfonso, was born on my tenth birthday, and about a week and a half later, she was gone. She was twenty-six."

Aramis dropped his gaze, bowing his head. Childbirth took so many women before their time. He could still remember the icy fear that had spread throughout his mind and body when he learned that Anne had gone into labour with their son. "I'm sorry. It sounds like she was a great woman, well-loved by her people and her family."

"She was," Anne replied. She turned towards him. "My father had a biography written of her for me, so I could learn from her and remember her."

"I'd like to read it, that is if you still have it and don't mind me borrowing it."

Anne gave a shake of her head that she wouldn't. "As long as you don't mind reading in Spanish."

"Not at all. It will remind me of my own mother."

The corners of her mouth lifted and she turned back to face the portrait. "How much we owe our mothers for who and where we are today."

Standing there next to her, Aramis thought of all his mother had done for him, all she had taught him. He wished he had a portrait of her to show Anne. The two of them had been raised in such vastly different circumstances, yet here they were together and with so much in common, and their mothers had played a large part in that.

He heard Anne sigh lightly and then felt her lean into his arm. He threw a quick glance at the open door, and then moved his arm so that he could wrap it around her waist, telling himself that if they were going to stand there in silence for another minute or two, he could easily listen for anyone approaching. Anne apparently thought the same, for she went and rested her head against his shoulder.

They stood there for a couple minutes until Aramis suggested they forgo the rest of their meeting. He wasn't really in the mood now to discuss affairs of state, and Anne had been tired lately.

Anne nodded her head against him before pulling herself away. "I think I'll retire early again tonight. I hope that won't hinder your work." She took his left hand between hers and started gently stroking his fingers, and he knew then what she was truly referring to. She had asked if they could skip their improvised exercises the night before also.

"Not at all. You're not unwell, are you?"

"Just tired." Her eyes flickered over at the doorway. "And I'm a little sore," she whispered, glancing down at her chest.

He cupped her elbow with his free hand, taken aback by her admission. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize how rough I've been." He hoped she hadn't been downplaying any pain or discomfort for his sake.

She shook her head. "You weren't. I'm sure my body's just not used to such attention."

MMMMMMMMMM

"We got a letter from Athos," Constance announced the next day. She and Elodie were visiting with Marie-Cessette and were seated at a table with Anne while Aramis sat on the floor with the baby. "They're doing well in their new home, though poor Sylvie's started having bouts of morning sickness."

"How far along is she again?" Elodie asked.

"About three months?" Constance answered.

"Hopefully it won't last long for her. A certain someone had me sick throughout the day for months," Elodie said, throwing a sidelong glance at her daughter.

"You?" Aramis mouthed at Marie-Cessette and then shook his head in disbelief. "Surely not this little angel," he said aloud.

"The women in my village said sometimes it can last the rest of the pregnancy though," Elodie added.

Aramis looked over to Anne, expecting her to recount her own experience, but she merely sat there with her hands in her lap and said nothing as she gazed at a spot on the floor, her face slightly pinched. She didn't even look like she was listening, her mind seemed to be somewhere else. Perhaps she was thinking of her first pregnancy.

Anne remained quiet and distracted throughout the rest of the day, and when it came time for their small council, she had to ask him more than once to repeat himself as he listed off numbers and plans. She apologized for it, and tried to focus her eyes on him, but he suggested that they end the meeting early again.

She conceded, murmuring that all the stress and activity of the past several weeks seemed to be catching up to her before letting him go.

Later, finishing his notes on another report before bed, he realized it was well past the time when Anne usually came to his chambers.

Figuring she was still in her own bed and that he would let her rest, he decided to clean his pistol, and was just about to apply oil to a cloth when the bookshelf swung open and Anne stepped into the room.

He barely saw her face before she turned and closed the door. She then stayed there, facing the bookshelf, her back to him.

"Ana?"

She turned then, and walked over to his desk without saying a word, without meeting his eyes. "Can I sit?" she asked softly once she was standing next to his chair.

Pushing his chair back, she settled into his lap, still never meeting his eyes. Careful not to press into the nearly-healed wound on his side, she leaned against his shoulder.

He wrapped an arm around her back and rubbed her shoulder, laying his other hand on her knee. "What's the matter?" He looked up into her face but her eyes were focused on her fingers playing with the loose ties of his shirt.

"I think I'm pregnant," she admitted in a whisper.

All thought vanished from his mind and his breath caught in his chest as his heart seemed to have stopped beating, but when Anne's watery eyes finally met his he knew that he hadn't imagined what she just said.

"But you were taking…" he said once he was able to string a few words together.

"Just the once," said Anne, shaking her head. "The attack happened the next day. And at first I was distracted and forgot; the vial was kept in your desk and you weren't in any condition for us to be intimate. I didn't worry about it though since we only slept together that one week and we had been careful. I figured I didn't need to start taking the herb again until you were fully healed." She took a breath. "But I suppose once wasn't enough."

He shook his head. He had forgotten all about the vial hidden in his desk as well. And even when they had started their improvised therapy for his hand, Anne was still adamant he didn't exert himself and pull at his stitches, nor did she want to put any excess pressure on his ribs yet, so they never went as far as making love. "It doesn't matter, no method is foolproof, even when I was withdrawing, there was always a chance," he said, trying to assuage her obvious guilt. "It happened at the brothel more than once-my own mother..."

"I could still just be late," she offered weakly, "But if not, we have to prepare and...and I'll have to say that the child is the King's. If I don't, the timing and those pamphlets could be used to get rid of me, of us all."

Aramis' gaze fell. He knew she was right, but saying it aloud quashed all of the fantasies and dreams of having a child he could call his own that were whizzing around his mind.

She placed a hand on his cheek. "I'm so sorry, my love. I'm so sorry to have to do this to you again."

He stiffly nodded and then looked up into her eyes. "Know that I would be overjoyed about this if our situation was different, if I could publicly acknowledge our relationship. I'm just worried right now."

"Me too." Anne paused, and the hand on his cheek fell to his chest. "I've dreamed of having a large family with you. But it was only ever a dream, not only because of our situation, but because it had been so hard for Louis and I to have a child. I thought having our son had been something short of a miracle, and I came to believe that I would never become pregnant again after that. And certainly not so…well..."

"Easily?" Aramis finished for her as he lifted his left hand and moved it toward her stomach. His fingers stopped short though and he turned his palm up, showing the bright red scar that ran across it.

A shiver went up his spine and he pinched his eyes shut as he remembered how he got that injury.

Placing his hand on her stomach, he let his forehead drop against her shoulder. "Ana, if you're-if I hadn't been there…"

"I know," she said, covering his hand with hers. "I know. But you were, and I thank God for every second you watch over us."

"And I always will," he assured her, bringing her hand to his lips to seal his promise. "And I'll be here to take care of you this time."

A tremulous smile appeared on Anne's face. "I'd like that."

Letting their hands fall to her lap, they both took deep breaths and Aramis could feel the uncertainty in the air starting to abate. Leaning his head against her shoulder again, he felt Anne rest her own head against his.

"How are you feeling? Are you tired?" he asked after a few seconds.

"A bit."

"Then we'll talk more in the morning," he declared, and after wrapping his arm around her waist and hooking her legs over the other, lifted her up as he got to his feet.

"Aramis! You shouldn't," she chided.

"I should."

"Your injuries," she pressed.

"Are fine," he insisted. "Besides, you're as light as a feather."

"Not for long."

"Plenty of time for me to build up my strength and be able to carry you around when you should no longer be on your feet."

"I may hold you to that when my back starts aching," she said, her features finally brightening.

"Whatever you wish, my queen."

Carrying her into the bedroom, he laid her down on the bed and placed a kiss on her temple before telling her he would be right back.

He returned to the office and took a couple scrolls off his desk to place on a far shelf, out of sight from the bedroom. Placing both hands on the ledge, he bowed his head and closed his eyes.

Another child. Another child he could not claim, that he would have to love as a subject and not as a father. The King was dead and still he managed to benefit from his pain.

Aramis took a deep breath. At least he wouldn't have to see the King with his child this time. There was still the danger of people finding out, but the risk was less. There was no scheming Cardinal looking to hold power over them, no Rochefort lusting after Anne, and no husband to deceive. He and Anne were in charge, working together with their friends. He had a reason to be near her, to be near his family. He would have to keep some boundaries in public, but in private, he could be a husband to Anne and...at least for now, a father to this baby.

Once ready, he returned to Anne, who was curled up on her side, her hands pillowing her head. As he climbed into bed, Anne lifted her head to look over her shoulder at him. He gave her a small, reassuring smile and moved to spoon her. She mirrored his smile, and allowed him to snake his arm under her pillow while his other arm wrapped around her waist, his hand coming to rest on her stomach. Her own hand covered his and he held her snug against him.

"I believe," Aramis told her.

"Believe what?"

"In signs," he answered, pressing a kiss into her hair. "I'm meant to be here, with you."

MMMMMMMMMM

"I should have shot you after the first time, Aramis! I cannot believe this has happened again."

"Athos? Athos wake up."

Athos sprang up, turning to Sylvie with alarm as he blinked to adjust his eyes to the faint light of the Moon coming through the windows. "What? What's the matter? Is something wrong?" He looked to see if she was in distress, if something was happening with the baby, but she simply laid there on her side, propped up on an elbow.

"You're the one moaning in your sleep, you tell me."

"I was?"

"Dreaming about Aramis," she replied with a quirk of her eyebrows. "Though it sounded more like a nightmare. Something about how you should have shot him after the first time? First time he did what?"

Athos shook his head. "Just a dream."

"Come on," Sylvie lightly prodded, pulling herself up into a sitting position. "What's this bad thing Aramis did that has you worrying about it in your sleep?"

He sighed. "He slept with a married woman a long time ago, high-born and with a powerful husband. It almost got him killed. Could have gotten us all killed." He rolled onto his side, hoping she would be satisfied with the explanation.

"Athos, did Aramis sleep with the Queen? Is the King his son?"

He should have known better.

Looking over his shoulder, he met her stare, waiting for him to answer. "Why would you think that?"

"I've been wondering since the day the King died; something Aramis said to the Queen and the way he said it. How he took her hand and kissed it. And then that night he came back later from the palace than the rest of you."

"What was it that he said to the Queen?"

"Something about almost losing the Dauphin, but he used "we" and it was almost like a reproach. I thought he was referring to me and Constance, but I've come to realize… his face when I told him what Constance was doing with the Dauphin...the fear that flashed across it, the ferocity with which he went after them." She paused. "I saw you react the same way when Grimaud had me. When you found out about the baby."

Athos closed his eyes. Sylvie was too smart, too observant to not make a connection. And too stubborn to let her theory go unconfirmed. Sitting up next to her, he took her hand in his, and told her the truth.

"Your dream then…" she began once he had finished.

"I was visiting, and when I came across them in the palace gardens, Aramis had a hand on her belly. She was big with child." He could recall the memory the vision had originated from, it was back when the Queen had been pregnant with the Dauphin, but the Dauphin-now King-had also been in the dream; Athos had seen him playing out on the lawn. And the whole thing...it felt like it was happening now.

"Well, I'm sure it's just all in your head," Sylvie assured him. She moved their hands to her own belly. "You've a reason to have babies on your mind."

Athos smiled softly, stroking her small swell with his thumb. Surely she was right. Surely Aramis and the Queen would be taking precautions if they had resumed an intimate relationship. Surely their son was a one in a million chance in the first place considering the Queen's past difficulties in bearing a child. Surely his mind was just combining his past and present worries into one.

But perhaps he would write to Aramis in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> -I am NOT a physical therapist, lol
> 
> -That big white structure behind the fountain where Annamis kiss at the end of 3x10 is actually an orangery. The other side is all windows.
> 
> -Also not a herbalist. I treated it like the modern contraceptive pill, as in the herb had to be taken regularly (in small doses) and once is not going to do anything (unless you take a very large or concentrated dose, which can lead to death).
> 
> Historical Background/Inspiration:
> 
> -Henry IV was killed by a Catholic fanatic named Françoise Ravaillac who, according to Wikipedia, interpreted Henry's invasion of the Spanish Netherlands as a declaration of war against the Pope and therefor Catholicism. While Henry's carriage was stopped in traffic, Ravaillac stabbed him, along with a duke riding with him, who survived. Henry greatly disliked the Spanish, meanwhile, Marie de Medici believed "that affiliation with the Spanish royal house was the peak of achievement" and a "little more than a year after the death of her husband, who had decided against such alliances, Marie began actively to negotiate marriage with the Spanish infanta [Anne] for Louis and Elisabeth [to Philip], breaking a promise made by Henri to the duke of Savoy." (Quotes from _Louis XIII: The Making of a King_ by Elizabeth Wirth Maverick)
> 
> -Upon Louis XIII' death, Anne's brother Philip was advised to "choose some man of skill and discretion to carry a message of condolence to his sister...With this opening the envoy could proceed to bring up the matter of peace" and the man chosen was Don Diego de Saavedra Fajardo. He was met by an envoy from the French court upon his arrival in Bordeaux and "admitted that he did have a mandate from the Spanish king and queen to deliver their personal letters of condolence to Queen Anne and kiss her hand if he should happen to be passing through Paris, not with any purpose of initiating negotiations but purely as an expression of the Spanish court's affection and his own reverence for the queen." The Dutch ambassador objected to the visit, the Swedish ambassador saw no harm in it, and "upon deliberations the council of state decided that in order to keep the confidence of France's allies, the queen should receive neither visits or letters from Spain. By way of softening the blow, Anne sent one of her gentlemen to see Don Diego with assurances of her regrets. For her own part, she said, she would have been glad to welcome her brother's messenger. As matters stood, however, she had no choice but to follow the advice of her council. There could be no doubt that she as well as Mazarin had understood the ulterior motive of the proposed visit, for she added that having been kept away from state affairs for so long, she was only a poor, confused woman with no knowledge or any influence at all on diplomatic negotiations. Moreover, she could not countermand council resolutions by her own will, nor could she afford to give occasion for comment by appearing Spanish in her sympathies." (Quotes from _Anne of Austria_ by Ruth Kleinman. The book goes into far more delightful detail about this event, but then I'd be typing up whole pages.)
> 
> -Anne was noted to have "frequently and in public, express her great eagerness for peace" and Mazarin "begged the queen to speak openly of continuing the war against Spain, and to make it plain that in the interests of the king and of justice she would not consent to the restitution of French war gains...Nor would Mazarin hear of a separate peace, however advantageous to France, at the expense of Sweden, the Netherlands, and her other allies: on the contrary, the allies must be reassured. He reported to the queen that their ambassadors in Paris were already saying, 'the queen will be for her son against Spain, but for her brother against all others.'" (Quotes from _Anne of Austria_ by Ruth Kleinman)
> 
> -Pretty sure the sentiment "When she passed, it was as if all of Spain's happiness left with her" is from one of the books I read, probably _The Empress, the Queen, and the Nun_ by Magdalena S. Sanchez, but I didn't write it down, and I don't have the book anymore to check


	5. Making Plans

_Prepare for it_

Sitting in the chair next to d'Artagnan instead of the one behind his desk, Aramis took a deep breath. "The Queen is ill."

D'Artagnan's jaw dropped. "Don't tell me she has the white plague too."

"No," Aramis quickly said. "No, she is ill due to an, um, excess of love."

Cocking his head to the side, d'Artagnan's face scrunched up in confusion.

"And her skirts will need to be let out in the coming months," Aramis added. He knew he should have just come out with it plainly and straight away, but he wanted to put off seeing the disappointment on his brother's face.

D'Artagnan's eyebrows sprang up. "She's with child," he stated, figuring it out. "Your child?" he asked with a little uncertainty.

Aramis nodded. "But we can't admit to that. Our enemies might use it to cast doubt over the King's legitimacy and depose us all. We must minimize the risk and proclaim the child is the late King's."

"You slept with the Queen that soon after the King died?" d'Artagnan asked with a hint of reproach.

"How long was it that you wanted Constance to wait after Bonacieux died? How badly did you want to be with her after you returned from war? After all those years apart?" Aramis countered.

D'Artagnan raised his hands up in surrender. "So the council isn't aware of this yet I gather?"

"She hasn't even had it confirmed by a physician yet. No, you and Constance are the only ones who know. We wanted to be prepared before word starts to get out. That's why we didn't tell you and Constance together; we have to keep our distance, but publicly."

MMMMMMMMMM

At the sight of Constance, Anne dismissed her ladies from her bedside. Her friend looked worried at the sight of her still in bed, but said nothing as she let the women take their leave.

"Constance, the doors please."

Closing the doors, Constance then approached Anne. "Your Majesty, are you unwell?"

Anne waited for her to take a seat on the edge of the bed. "Oh Constance, I've been so foolish."

"Why? What is it? What's happened?"

"The herbs, I added them to my chocolate the night you gave them to me, and, well, it was wonderful to be with Aramis without having to worry, without having to remember to stop before…" Anne trailed off and thankfully a nod from Constance told her she understood what she meant. "But that's it. I didn't remember. Aramis was nearly killed the next day and I didn't remember to take any more. And now…"

"You're with child," Constance concluded.

"I believe so," Anne confirmed softly, looking down as she rested a hand on her stomach. "I've spent my whole life thinking about my duty to bear children; learning how often to sleep with my husband, what foods to eat, and what lakes to swim in to increase my chances of providing heirs and maybe a few daughters to make alliances with, not preventing me from having them." Taking a deep breath, she then continued, "Once I did remember, I didn't think it mattered. Aramis was still recovering and we had only slept together a few times before then. It had only taken one night the first time, but what were the chances of it happening so easily again?"

"Does Aramis know yet?"

Anne nodded. As much as she had wanted to put off hurting him, she had been resolute that he be the first to know this time. "I had to tell him even though I'm not sure. The sooner we act, the more likely everyone will believe this is my husband's child. That's what this is all for," she said, briefly lifting her hands to gesture at her bedridden self. "And if I'm wrong, if I'm not with child after all, then I'll simply say it was a passing illness or that I lost it. That would be even easier for them to believe."

"Is that why Aramis made a big show of coming down the stairs to greet us before sending me off to see you? So as not to raise suspicion that the child is his?"

"Yes, I suspect he'll be spending a lot of time with d'Artagnan in the coming days." Looking away from Constance, she bowed her head. "I'm sure he's glad to have a reason to avoid me, to avoid having to hide how disappointed he is with me," she quietly admitted.

"Nonsense," said Constance, quickly refuting the statement. "You couldn't have known all of this would happen. And I'm sure he wishes he was with you right now, ordering you soup and, I don't know, wrapping you up in blankets or making sure your pillows are properly fluffed. If that man is bad at anything, it's hiding how much he worries about you and the King." Constance leaned closer to her. "Don't you remember how he nearly blew his cover at Emilie's camp when you were threatened? How he tried to get Marmion to let the Dauphin and us women go, and got himself shoved out a window for it?" Taking her hand, Constance waited for Anne to meet her eyes. "Trust me, Majesty, the hard part will be keeping him away."

MMMMMMMMM

Now that the d'Artagnans were aware of what was going on, there was one more person to talk to before Anne raised her suspicions to Doctor Delorme, and this time, she thought it best to be straightforward.

"I am with child."

She thought she might have caught the slightest twitch of Milady's eyebrows, otherwise the woman only stared at her for several seconds before blinking. "I know a woman, I will see if she's still in Paris, but rest assured, Majesty, I'll get you what you need as soon as possible."

Anne's own eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"Surely you can't risk suspicion that the King is also Aramis' son, and I doubt a prolonged absence from court to have the child in secret would go over well either."

Anne lowered her gaze, understanding her meaning. If this had happened later on, she would have had to consider that option, and it made her wonder how or why Milady knew such a woman, but those were questions for another time.

"I carry my late husband's child," Anne corrected her. Looking straight into Milady's eyes, she further clarified, "As I will explain to the council, we were together before he passed."

Raising her chin slightly as understanding washed over her features, Milady then bowed her head. "Of course. Forgive me, Your Majesty, I did not realize how far along you are," she said, easily going along with the change in direction. "What do you need of me then?"

"I need you to spread the word. I will not make a public announcement until the child quickens as is tradition, but I want the people to be aware of my condition sooner. I want to be in control of the gossip." The people did not know the truth about her and Aramis' relationship as Milady did, but Anne did not want to rely on their ignorance and the assumptions they might come up with on their own.

"I see. Well then, I would advise keeping things simple and vague, but is there anything specific you would like me to include?"

"Our grain of truth is that the King visited my apartments in the weeks before his death and we reconciled. Servants can attest to leaving us alone. Build on that. Embellish it. Make it romantic. He knew he was dying and so we started trying for another child, a new heir for France. He named Tréville regent so that I could focus on our children. Something like that." Something to make it sound like he loved her.

"As you wish, but may I suggest something?" said Milady, and after Anne nodded, she continued, "If you don't want anyone to suspect that Aramis is the father, then allow me to start spending some time with him."

"You mean to make everyone think he is sleeping with you and not me?"

"Indeed." She crossed her arms in front of her. "Believe me, I have no intention of stealing your lover from you. All it would take is me being seen entering or leaving his rooms, perhaps a few tokens of affection, and they'll be calling me a-well, names, in no time."

As uneasy as the thought initially made her, she had to admit that it did sound like a good plan the more she considered it. "You would do this for us?" she asked. She supposed the woman might seek an increase in pay for this, but still, to volunteer to put herself out there and sacrifice what remained of her reputation for a fake relationship was no easy thing, at least not to Anne.

"I wish you all to keep your heads on your shoulders."

MMMMMMMMMM

"It's actually quite a good idea," Aramis conceded while he got into bed that night. His immediate reaction had been aversion, but Anne was quick to explain how they could pull off the illusion, and, well, since it was coming from her, she clearly already approved of and trusted Milady's intentions. "So far she hasn't been seen with you, but if she's ever caught sneaking around the palace, they'll think she's here for me and not on your orders."

Anne leaned up on her pillows and rested her head against her hand. "And I suppose you do have a reputation to uphold."

Aramis snorted. "I think my time as a monk shot some holes in that."

"What, were you planning on keeping your vow of celibacy?"

He chuckled even louder at that. "I think it's a bit late for that, don't you?" Turning onto his side to fully face her, he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "You have always superseded my vows," he said earnestly. "And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

MMMMMMMMMM

"What's all this?" d'Artagnan questioned as he and Constance reached the top of the stairs and saw the small crowd of people standing at the end of the hallway leading to Aramis' quarters.

"Her Majesty has been feeling unwell as of late, a minor cold most likely," they heard Aramis announce, and Constance had to stifle a laugh, knowing full-well that what ailed the Queen was no minor cold. "Come back later and I'll have found out whether she'll be up to receiving anyone today."

As the crowd of murmuring courtiers made their way to the stairs, Constance and d'Artagnan stepped aside to let them pass, and caught the odd comment as they went by.

"Shooing us away to return to his bed most likely," one said with a shake of his head.

"Couldn't look in a mirror before coming out?" said another.

Constance chuckled softly, and exchanged an incredulous look with d'Artagnan. That didn't sound like Aramis. What did the first comment mean though? Did he look like he just rolled out of bed? His hair always looked somewhat of a mess, albeit an artfully disheveled mess that many women found dashing-or so she'd heard.

"Look!" someone whispered sharply, bringing the crowd to a halt.

Turning their heads in the indicated direction, Constance saw a dark-haired woman with her back to them, walking in the opposite direction of the courtiers.

"Is that...?" d'Artagnan wondered beside her.

Before going down another hallway, the woman turned and Constance watched as Milady de Winter put her fingers to her bright red lips and blew a kiss in the direction of...in the direction of Aramis. And now that the crowd had cleared, not only could she see him blow a kiss in return, but she could see that his hair did look more ruffled than usual and he had...he had a pair of bright red lips stamped right in the middle of his cheek.

Her feet moved on their own accord, swiftly going after Aramis' now-retreating figure.

"How could you!" she called out as she caught up to him just outside his office. How could he do this to Anne? Does pregnancy make her less desirable? Is she too busy, too tired to fulfill his needs?

Aramis whirled around, his eyes widening at the sight of her. "Constance, wait-" but before he could say anymore, Constance punched him square in the face.

"Constance!" she heard d'Artagnan shout behind her as she clutched her throbbing hand.

Ignoring him, as well as the pain, she began to berate Aramis as he straightened, a hand covering his face where she hit him, though she had already caught sight of his own red-stained mouth and could even now see the outline of lips that marked his neck and, oh God, even the patch of skin where his shirt opened was not unmarked. It made her want to punch him again, or perhaps kick him where it mattered. "I ought to tie you down and-"

"Get in!" Aramis pleaded from behind his hand. Grabbing her by the elbow with the other, he practically dragged her into his office just as Anne came through the doors connecting to Aramis' bedroom. She was wearing just a robe over her chemise and her hair was down.

"What...?" Anne asked, looking slightly alarmed. She held up a white cloth in her hand and it had a red smear on it, the same colour as the lips that stamped Aramis's face and neck...the same colour that still partially remained on Anne's own lips.

Constance heard the office door close behind her before d'Artagnan spoke up, "Can someone please explain what's going on."

Aramis groaned in pain. "You broke my nose!"

Whipping her head around, she saw Aramis with his head thrown back, fishing his handkerchief out of his pocket. Pulling his hand away from his face, she saw the blood on it, and the streams coming from his nostrils and spreading into his reddening mustache.

Anne immediately went to him, offering the cloth in her hand and guiding him to a chair d'Artagnan quickly pulled over.

"Constance, there's a basin of water in his bedroom, could you fetch it?"

Snapping out of her stupor, Constance unrooted her feet from the ground to fulfill Anne's request. Minutes later, once the bleeding had stopped and Aramis was somewhat cleaned up, Anne and d'Artagnan stood on either side of the small mirror Aramis held up to examine his nose.

"Nothing looks out of place," said d'Artagnan. "I don't think it's actually broken, or at least, not badly."

Anne hummed in agreement. "Still straight, though I do believe it's started to swell."

Letting the hand holding the mirror drop to his lap, Aramis closed his eyes and sighed but Constance couldn't tell whether it was out of relief or discomfort. When he opened his eyes again, they slid over to her.

"How's your hand?" he asked.

Constance shook her head. "It's fine," she answered, flexing her fingers. Her hand was aching but she felt too guilty to say so. "Surprising considering how thick your head is." The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile and it made her relax some. "I am so sorry Aramis," she began, turning serious. "I shouldn't have thought-"

Aramis put up a hand to stop her before accepting the wet cloth d'Artagnan offered him. "You thought exactly what we want people to think. And if we fooled you, we can fool anyone," he told her, and then placed the cloth on his nose.

Anne smiled at her sympathetically. "We were going to tell you our plan, that's why we summoned you both, only you arrived earlier than expected."

"To be fair, Majesty, I think your thoroughness in the, um, application of certain cosmetic touches took longer than expected as well," Aramis added with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows, to which Anne glanced over to the bright red stain of rouge that peeked out from the opening in his shirt, a faint blush then creeping up her neck as she avoided the eyes of the room's other occupants.

Once she had taken a breath and composed herself, Anne looked to Constance. "It warms my heart to know you would defend my honour so fiercely, Constance, but I'm afraid we'll have to come up with a different excuse for Aramis' injury."

Aramis softly groaned. "I'll be needing your powders then, Majesty."

"To cover up the bruising?"

"Mhm, and then d'Artagnan can re-break my nose."

MMMMMMMMMM

Using the secret passage, Anne returned to her room and called for her ladies, who were doing their embroidery on the other side of the doors. She announced that she felt well enough for a walk out in the gardens and wished to be dressed.

Constance was admitted once they were nearly done. "Your Majesty," she curtsied. "D'Artagnan and I have just been with Aramis. He said you were still unwell?"

"I am, but I'm feeling well enough for a walk outside now. Would you join me?"

"Of course. If I may, I'll just run and let d'Artagnan know and join you out there."

"Is he still with Aramis?"

"Yes."

"Then we can stop by his office on our way out," Anne decided, "deliver the message myself that I'm feeling better."

They made their way to Aramis' office, with Anne's two ladies in tow. When they turned the corner at the final corridor, Anne asked in a clear voice how work on the garrison was progressing, knowing that Aramis and d'Artagnan were listening for a sign of their approach. Sure enough, a clatter was soon heard, a chair being knocked over, she supposed, and she brought her entourage to a stop.

"She was the King's mistress!" came d'Artagnan's voice from inside the office.

"A noble, courageous woman who helped save the King's life on more than one occasion as I recall," countered Aramis in a raised voice. "Now I must ask you to leave, d'Artagnan, I really don't have time for this."

Footsteps sounded and d'Artagnan stepped out of the room before swiftly turning around. "You know she's only interested in you because of your position!"

Aramis appeared, leaning his forearm against the doorway, effectively blocking his nose from view. "And who I decide to sleep with is really none of your concern. Just because you couldn't keep her in your bed doesn't mean I can't enjoy her comp-" Aramis was unable to finish his sentence though as d'Artagnan had pulled his arm back and punched him in the face, or at least that's what it looked like from their obscured view.

Anne and her ladies gasped and Constance called out her husband's name as Aramis stumbled backwards into his office.

"Enough!" Anne commanded. "What is the meaning of this!"

"Your Majesty!" d'Artagnan exclaimed. He looked back and forth between her and Aramis's office before hastily going into a deep bow. "Forgive me, I didn't know you were there, I-"

Anne cut him off: "I think we've all heard quite enough, Captain, and I believe it's your wife you owe an apology to, fighting over a woman in front of her."

D'Artagnan remained bent over in half and staring at the floor. "Yes, Your Majesty." He peeked up at his wife. "Constance-"

"Not now," said Constance.

"Is the First Minister all right?" Anne asked, feigning impatience.

"I'm fine, Your Majesty, though I warn you my nose is bleeding," called out Aramis. Straightening out of his bow, d'Artagnan stepped aside and Aramis came out into the corridor holding the bloodstained cloth to his nose.

"This is most disappointing, messieurs. I expect better from men of your positions, especially from two of Tréville's musketeers."

With the cloth still held to his nose and his head tilted back, Aramis went down on one knee, though he attempted a quick bow of his head nonetheless. "My most humble apologies, Majesty," said Aramis.

"I took a great risk in naming you First Minister, but I can easily un-name you. You as well, Captain," she said, looking between them. "My son, the King, has lost his father, he looks to the men around him to learn from, and I will not tolerate such behavior being exhibited anywhere near him. Now go and get yourself cleaned up, Minister, and make sure your private affairs stay private; I will not have my son's court turned into a laughingstock." Anne turned on her heel then, and her open-mouthed ladies quickly tore their eyes from the scene and lowered their heads in deference. She would dismiss them early tonight, and give them plenty of time to do their gossiping.

MMMMMMMMMM

He had to think of this as any other mission. He had to stay calm, collected, and prepared for anything once those doors opened.

He and all the council members had been waiting for at least a quarter of an hour for her now, but that was the plan for this morning; they all had to see him there, and she would come directly from her apartments to the meeting, with or without Doctor Delorme in tow. There would be no chance for her to go off and see Aramis or pass along any message and tell him the results of the examination.

There was little doubt in his mind that Anne wasn't pregnant, but this would make it official, no going back and figuring out a different plan. And if she came through those doors alone? He wasn't sure if he would actually be relieved.

Aramis and those men who could still hear well perked their heads up at the sound of approaching footsteps, and he restrained himself from turning around to stare at the doors. Soon they were opening though, and the other men began to rise from their seats, indicating that Anne had finally arrived.

"My apologies," he heard Anne say as he stood. He turned around then, and saw her, but she would not look at him...and following a few steps behind her was Delorme. With his back to the other council members, and all eyes on Anne, he let out the breath he was holding, and then steeled himself to react to the news.

"I've just been with Doctor Delorme and have an announcement to make," Anne continued, and looked expectantly at Delorme. "Doctor," she prompted.

Delorme bowed his silver-haired head at Anne before looking to the rest of the council. "I have just attended to the Queen Regent and, after conducting an examination, can confirm that Her Majesty is with child."

Faint noises of surprise rippled along the table.

Aramis finally allowed his lips to curve into a soft smile and looked to the others to say something, but when none of them did, he turned back to Anne. "Your Majesty, what joyous news, congratulations," he said, and then led the room into applause; the role reversal with the late King and the Cardinal not escaping his notice.

Once the applause died down, Magistrate Bellavoix spoke up. "Joyous news, indeed, Your Majesty, especially given the recent losses to the House of Bourbon."

Aramis shifted on his feet and willed his smile from wavering at the possible suspicion in the statement.

Anne didn't bat an eyelash though. "It is truly a blessing," she said. "My beloved husband had hoped to fight off the disease long enough to see the line of succession secured but alas," she paused, bowing her head and placing her hands over her stomach, "God giveth, and God taketh."

They all followed suit and solemnly bowed their heads in remembrance of the late king.

"I intend to continue to perform my duties to the best of my abilities and up until my confinement," Anne began once Delorme was dismissed and they were all sitting, "but my health and that of the child is of the utmost importance. I hope you will all understand if I need to cut back on my appearances and allocate some of my responsibilities elsewhere."

"Of course, whatever Your Majesty needs. We all-" Aramis looked down the table "-live to serve you and your son, the King."

"Perhaps this was part of the reason Tréville was named regent; in hope that you would be with child," said Bellavoix.

"I think it was," Anne replied. "After so many years of disappointment but for the birth of the Dauphin, I am ashamed to admit I did not think we would be so blessed again. I did not have his faith. In those last several months, he had turned to God; going on pilgrimages and granting such favor and forgiveness unto his brothers. He had faith that this gift would be bestowed upon France, and saw to prepare for it."

Now Aramis found himself having to suppress his smile as the men around the table nodded, and murmured praise and blessings upon the late king. Milady's gossip had reached at least one member of the council, and Anne had them all eating out of the palm of her hand. Watching her carry this out with such poise made him sit straighter, made him want to match her level of ease and confidence.

"With that being said, I cannot forget or deny my past," she continued, briefly lowering her gaze, "and I ask that my condition not be brought up to the King until the child quickens. His Majesty has experienced such loss over the past few months and I don't want to get his hopes up yet."

"As Your Majesty wishes," Aramis declared, and the rest of the council nodded in agreement.

"I have hope though, that the child should quicken sometime before the end of the year and a public announcement can be made on either Christmas or New Years Day," said Anne, deftly slipping in a reference to how far along she was. Sure enough, he could see some of the ministers mentally calculating the numbers to figure out when the child had been conceived. "It would give the people such joy and hope going into the new year," she added, and then smoothly moved the discussion onto the harvest and winter supplies, forcing everyone, including themselves, to think about something else, at least for a little while.

MMMMMMMMMM

That evening, Anne sent one of her ladies to Aramis with a message that she would be forgoing their small council meeting and retiring early. She would spare the both of them what would surely be an awkward meeting where they would have to sit apart and refrain from discussing the baby beyond further congratulations and inquiries about her health, to refrain from discussing how relieved they were. The council knew now. They had cleared the first hurdle.

A baby. She was going to have another baby. With Aramis. Despite knowing for weeks now and having it confirmed, she could hardly believe it. So many years spent trying to have a child with Louis, enduring the false hope and inevitable disappointment month after month, and then for it to happen without even thinking, and this time while even trying to prevent it. She thought back to what Aramis had said when she told him she was pregnant again. Meant to be. All this time, she was just waiting for Aramis.

After peeking her head into Louis' room to make sure he was asleep, she made her way through the secret passage to Aramis' rooms. Stepping into his office, she found it empty, and so she walked over to his bedroom where she saw him kneeling at his prie dieu, praying.

She stood there in the doorway, not wanting to disturb him. She knew this situation would be the hardest on him, to be by her side as she grew big with their child yet have to deny paternity, to deny his family. But he would always be a soldier, both in spirit and in practice, for he knew she was there, and when he pushed off the prie dieu he greeted her with the brightest smile.

"You were incredible," he told her as he gathered her up in his arms, hugging her tightly. "You convinced them all."

"I had to protect my family," she simply answered, pulling away to look into his eyes. Her lips stretched into a smile. "Our family."

He matched her smile with his own and then leaned in to kiss her. She went to deepen the kiss, but in her eagerness pressed against his bruised nose, eliciting a soft grunt from him.

She broke away, cringing slightly as she raised her hands towards his face. "Sorry, sorry."

"I'm fine," he assured her, briefly touching his fingers to his nostrils, "it's just a bit sore."

Sighing, she rested her hands on his chest and shook her head. "What a pair we are. You're the walking wounded and I'm a pregnant widow."

He laughed and brought her closer, pressing his cheek against her hair as he stood there holding her.

"Tell me again," he said after a short while.

"Tell you what?" she murmured into his chest.

He went and sat on the end of the bed. "Pretend that you haven't told me yet, about the baby."

She gave him a puzzled look and then shook her head. "All right." She fiddled with her hands a few times before looking up at him. "Ready?"

He nodded. "There was something you wanted to tell me, Ana?"

"Yes, I-" walking up to him, she took his hands in hers, and looked into his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

Blinking, his lips slowly curved into a smile. "Really?"

She nodded. "The doctor confirmed it this afternoon."

He brought a hand up to cup her face and grinned as a soft laugh escaped him. "That's wonderful." Jumping to his feet, he enveloped her in another hug. "That's wonderful," he repeated, and began peppering her face with kisses as the joy she had been keeping buried inside her bubbled up and turned into laughter.

MMMMMMMMMM

"I can understand it towards the end when the baby is nearing the size of a melon and pressing on things," she said a few weeks later, walking back to the bed, "but I've never understood having to relieve myself a dozen times a day at this stage."

Anne stopped in the middle of a sunbeam to kick off her slippers, and the morning light illuminated her silhouette beneath the white fabric of her chemise, revealing the slight curve to her stomach.

"Don't move," he told her, sounding more urgent than intended.

She froze. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just…" Crawling over to her, he sat back on his heels, and with one hand gathered a fistful of her chemise at the back and pulled it taut. "You're showing." He grinned and brought his other hand up to cup her belly.

He glanced up to her face and their eyes met before she looked back down. She laid one hand on his shoulder and then with the other touched the top of her belly with the tips of her fingers. In a straight line she traced them down to where his hand still cupped the small swell. "I suppose I am." She gave a sweet, almost bashful smile, and then covered his hand with hers.

Raising himself up, he met her halfway for a kiss. And after pulling her back into bed, laid his head in her lap while she sat back against the headboard.

"I'll have to tell Porthos and Athos about the baby," he said while she ran her fingers through his hair, her other hand resting on her stomach. "I don't want to keep this a secret from them, but it's not something I can put in a letter. I'll have to go to them, though I don't know if I'll come back in one piece."

Anne's hand stilled and he looked up to see her pouting.

"Porthos may want to castrate me," he explained. "Athos is in no position to tell me off since he's the one who set this up-not to mention he has his own little surprise on the way-but he might volunteer to hold me down."

"Don't worry, my love, I wouldn't let them do such a thing," she assured him.

"Could you put that in a missive for me to show them?"

"No need, I'll be there to tell them myself."

Turning over, he leaned up on his arm. "You'd want to come?"

"This is our baby and I want to tell the rest of our friends together. I'd also like to see how they're doing in their new lives. Louis can come too. It can be a little tour, a chance for the people to see their new king."

"Will you be well enough for such a journey?"

"The tiredness and the nausea should hopefully abate soon, and I won't be uncomfortably large yet so it should be fine...so long as you're all right waiting another month or so to see them."

"If it means you and Louis can come with me," Aramis shrugged his shoulders, "then I can wait." It would mean having to bring attendants and guards, and making stops in various cities or estates, but he assumed they would be able to leave that all behind when they visited Athos at least, and both Porthos and Athos were in the same direction as Douai...

Laying his head back on her lap, they laid there and discussed the possible tour for a while longer until Anne had to leave and return to her own bed.

With a turn of his head, he placed a quick kiss on her belly before pushing himself up and moving to sit back against the headboard to watch her go.

"Ana?"

"Yes?" she responded, stopping in the doorway.

"One more look?"

Smiling, she turned sideways and cradled her tiny bump.

MMMMMMMMMM

After the council meeting, Aramis and d'Artagnan walked back to his office together to further discuss the small tour Anne had proposed.

"She started showing, did you see?" Aramis asked once he closed the door behind them. He half-heartedly tried to mask the excitement in his voice.

"Is she?" D'Artagnan frowned and shook his head. "No, I didn't notice."

"No?" Sitting down behind his desk, he leaned back in his chair. "I suppose it's harder to tell with all the layers she wears."

D'Artagnan crossed his arms. "Yes, well, I'm very happy for you both, but do be careful about letting on how you've seen Her Majesty, um, without so many layers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical background/inspiration:
> 
> -"In the latter part of September 1643, Anne fell ill...jaundice brought on by the vexations she had endured for the past several months, said the courtiers. Rumor had it that it was nothing of the kind, however, and that the queen was pregnant by Mazarin. It could hardly have been true jaundice, for she was recovered by the end of the month, but neither did she turn out to be pregnant. At the relevant time, Mazarin himself set down in his current notebook the cryptic phrase 'jaundice from excess of love'" -Ruth Kleinman, _Anne of Austira_


End file.
